Dark Salvation
by Jaded Angel
Summary: And the first time, for what seemed like forever, I didn’t care where I was suppose to go, who I was suppose to be, who I’m suppose to be with, and how long this was going to last. (16)
1. Screwed Up

Disclaimer: You know the drill… I do not own Hey Arnold or any of the characters. (It would make an awesome birthday gift though)

Author's note: Okie dokie, I actually wrote something :) Well, I mean… something new. I decided to definently just finished OPSAWL to my orginal conclusion, I'll make sure to leave closure but also room for a sequel if I decide to write one. I have so many ideas that I want to write out, and my schedule seems to have over booked itself. Damn job… SO… I want to have finished OPSAWL by next week. I think I can do it.

I wrote this last night, I had time before work and I just sat down and began writing. The words were flowing like _crazy_. I was in shock. It's first person point of view (I could always change it, if it's easier for you to read thrid person) But I wrote it like this because it helps the reader _feel_ what the main character is feeling. This is simply a set up chapter, so it'll be confusing an awkward, because you won't know what's going on. Next chapter will be much more smooth. It's not hard to tell who's point of view it is, so don't worry. I must say that it's a morbid/dark story. The quotes, seperating the scenes, have very little with anything to do with the scene. It's a scene breaker. Nothing more. They don't reveil any type of secret I'm trying to hide from you.

Ok… enough ranting Read, tell me what you think. I like getting feedback ((There WILL be grammar mistakes, I can personally only catch so many and the computer I truly believes adds them sometime, during spell/grammar mistakes)) So feedback about grammar is already known and thank you for telling me again in advance. I really do try to make it was smooth as possible. The reading that is. If you want to see something happen, or want me to change the p.o.v. of the sotry, just Review ((Or email or harrass me while I'm aim)) And I'm sure we can come to some aggreement :)

Jeez I wrote a lot… sorry… Ok Hope you Enjoy! Next chapter will be better :). Look for a chapter to OPSAWL maybe tomorrow night? Hopefully… we'll see :) R&R!

(_Remember fairy dust? When did _that_ stop working?_)

She was coughing again.

I was slowly going out of my mind. There couldn't ever just be a day where _for once_ it was a good day.

I heard my mother rushing up the staircase. I imagined her arms full of medicine and water as she ran passed my closed door.

I sighed as I pulled the pillow closer around the sides of my face, staring at the white ceiling.

I had to get some sleep. I had three tests tomorrow, then a newspaper meeting, and finally I had to rush to my job and work until eight, only to come home and spend half the night helping my mother and half the night doing whatever homework I couldn't get done during school.

There were days where I was surprised the school nurse wasn't calling me in and asking me straight out if I was on drugs. I wouldn't blame her if she did.

Silence filled the second floor of our townhouse. I lowered the pillows and basked as I heard the soft sound of cars driving slowly down Veranda Street.

It didn't last long. It never does. Her throat erupted with dry coughs, each more bitter then the last.

My body tensed up, I suddenly felt extremely hot. I looked around as the room became blurred. I desperately began rubbing my eyes as hot tears stung brutally. They rolled down my face as I stared at the ceiling.

It always got like this. Late at night, when I couldn't sleep because she was in the room next to me, slowly dying. It shouldn't have hurt this badly. Blood is always thicker then water I suppose.

It seemed almost endless but soon her coughing died down. I hoped for good, tonight. The medicine was stronger then her last, usually it worked through out the night.

I continued to wipe my eyes until the tears ceased and I was able to clearly focus on my ceiling again. Waiting for the next thing to happen.

I was soothed by the sobs that erupted from my mother's bedroom. I shouldn't have been, but I was. Sobbing meant that at least my mother was ok, that she was still alive. Sobbing meant that it wasn't all right but that didn't mean it wouldn't get better.

Even though we both knew it wouldn't.

Sobbing was the end of the ritual. She had stopped coughing for now and my mother was safely tucked into her bedroom. All it meant was I could go to sleep and have dreams and nightmares alike.

I think it was sixth grade that I stopped having real dreams.

That sounded right, sixth grade. I rolled over and faced the curtained window.

It had been four years. That didn't seem like a lot. Maybe it wasn't.

I fell asleep counting how many times she had kept me up through out the night coughing.

It was my counting of sheep.

I'm that screwed up.

(_And in a world gone mad, you were my pillar of saneness…_)

I sat in my fourth period class trying to pay attention to the board. Trying is the main word. My thoughts wandered off to what was happening in my house as I sat in school. My safe haven it seemed.

I thought something could have happened. Maybe she had to go to the hospital. What if my mother woke up and found her dead? What would happen after that?

Common sense took over and assured me that if anything happened the nurse would call me down or better yet, I was allowed to take cell phone calls. I had the power to grab my ringing cell phone walk out of the class and answer it. This seemed to calm my nerves.

I can't remember when I had learned to care. Maybe it wasn't learned. Maybe I just decided it was time. One might never know.

Distantly I heard the bell. I gathered my books and walked out of the class.

I watched the familiar faces talk in their cliques, laughing and giggling.

My locker was on the East Side of the high school. It took five minutes to walk there and then five minutes to walk to the cafeteria. I found this to be useful information.

I felt my lips move into a smile as I saw my best friend leaning against my locker. She smiled back warmly, pretending that we both were having good days. Scratch that, good lives.

"Hey." She said, her smile never faltering.

"Hey." I said, though my tone was not as smooth as hers was. Somewhere during the game I lost my ability to shield my feelings and emotions. Four years ago sounded about right though.

She began talking.

I turned and took her in. Her raven hair was up in two buns on either side of her head. She was wearing jeans and red turtleneck. She had gotten taller maybe two or three inches under my height of 5'7". She looked happy, content, almost perfect, I mused. She always tried to smile for me. I don't know why though. I wouldn't have smiled for me.

It took a few seconds but I no longer heard her voice in my head. I looked to see her smiling brightly, staring past me; she was slightly blushing, and was waving shyly.

I turned my head quickly, my long blonde hair raising from my shoulders. I looked to where she was staring at and saw two boys walking down the hall. I hadn't noticed how tall they had gotten until now. They had to be at least 6'2", if not taller.

One of them, the blonde one, was simply known as the _obsession_. The boy walking next to him was his long time friend, as well as my best friend's boyfriend of four months. They smiled back at us, well at her, and even went so far as to wave. I nodded my head in acknowledgement but turned quickly back to my locker.

I felt the need to cry. But I wouldn't dare, not in school. She turned and looked at me. Scolding almost.

"What?" I heard myself ask.

"Nothing." She said, a small sigh escaping from her lips.

I gently closed my locker door and we headed to lunch. I could hear her thinking, trying to figure out what to say next, whom to bring up.

Last year I had figured out that I had become a social outcast. Only dealt with by my closest and only friend. I don't know when it happened, slowly I guess. There was only three people in school, mostly, who went so far as to say more then five words to me. My best friend, her boyfriend, and the _obsession_. Other then the casual others who tried to limit their sentences to me ten words or less, no one else bothered.

My teachers talked to me, mostly to say how they admired my work and congratulate me on my superior grades. Second to only one or two other people in the grade (my best friend included).

Personally, I didn't like talk. I didn't like answering questions or being constantly asked if I was ok. So the fewer the people who tried talking to me, the happier I found myself at the end of the day.

"There you are!" The _obsessio_n's friend said, coming up to us, taking her in his arms.

"Gerald!" She said, giggling. On some level I hated them, because of this little display and all the emotions attached. Yet, I was happy for her.

It's one hell of a web I weave.

We walked to a table near the cafeteria doors. They sat there for me. I enjoyed watching the cool breeze of January sweep along the barren trees.

I sat down and began staring into the chilling day. It was around fifteen degrees they were predicting snow. I love snow. However, snow means issues for her, it's harder to run out and get medicine in the snow. Last year our heater broke, she had to go to the hospital, I had to stay with my father, and my mother had rented a hotel room a block away from the hospitable. Winters were always my favorite season. It was just inconvenience now.

"Aren't you going to eat?" I turned and looked at the _obsession_. He was still trying to break through my walls, after all these years.

"I'm not hungry." I said. I really wasn't, not after watching her throw up almost everything that touched her lips.

"You should really eat." I heard him say.

"I'm really not hungry." I repeated a bit more forcefully. This however didn't bother him. He was so use to my tones that it no longer made him flinch.

"You're going to cause yourself an early death with that attitude." He said, his eyes slightly narrowing.

My heart stopped as his words processed into my mind. I felt the need to begin screaming at him, hysterically crying about how he was a selfish asshole. How his life was _perfect_.

I think all I did was stare at him.

"Screw. You." I said, ice clinging to my words. I had no _real_ reason to get mad. He had no idea what was going on with me. He never has.

I grabbed my books and pushed open the large cafeteria doors.

It felt refreshing. I was numb enough not to feel the icy hands of Mother Nature.

Somehow, I think I felt alive.

There was a bench not to far from the doors. During spring and the beginning of summer we could sit outside and have lunch.

We'd also read and have group sessions on which president would screw our country further into the ground. Well, I at least did these things.

I stared at the barren trees that sat in the back of the school. I enjoyed sitting out here. I had stopped getting colds and the flu when I turned ten. I could safely play in the snow without a care in the world. Where as, if she even opened the window we could probably begin writing her obituary.

It never used to be like this.

I heard the cafeteria doors open. The _obsession_ was walking towards me. He had on his lettermen jacket. Leather sleeves and interior. His name scribbled in the corner. His hands were pushed into the deep pockets as he sat next to me.

"I'm sorry, for whatever I said." He said, smiling slightly.

I took him in; I began doing that a lot lately. He's green eyes were clear and comforting. His lips were full and almost inviting. He had an olive-ish skin tone, making him tan well in the summer. He had thick blond hair, cut short with a few strands falling into his face. He was no longer the _oddball_ in the head department. His face had grown longer, making his head decrease in size. He smelt of eucalyptus. Clean and fresh.

"It doesn't matter." I said, my voice almost emotionless.

"What's going on with you?" He asked right away, seemingly ignoring my somewhat acceptance of his apology.

"Nothing." I said, looking at him, his comforting eyes.

"I want to help." He said.

There have been two times since I found out about her that I almost told him everything. Two days after my mother had told me what was happening. And last year when he had called me a bitch and I hit him. Common sense would not allow me to tell him what was going on. He could never help, no mattered if he died wanting too.

"You can't." I said shortly, taking my time to answer his statement.

He looked away from me and then back at the cafeteria, shaking his head.

"Fine."

I nodded my head slowly, hurt by his resignation. It was my own fault.

Upon reaching into my bag, looking to see if my mother had called and I had missed the ring, my hand pulled out my camera.

I was school photographer for the newspaper. I discovered in seventh grade that I liked photography and according to my teacher, I was good at it.

He was staring at the school; I had a shot of his side view. I took my camera and aimed it, making sure to turn on the flash.

"Don't move." I whispered. My finger pressed down on the button, he didn't move until the flash had gone off.

"Why'd you take a picture of me?" He smiled softly. He had already forgiven my harsh tone from earlier.

"How could I not?"

(_It hurts to smile, yes, but only when I think of you... always when I think of you._)

I worked at a candy store. Seven dollars an hour, for ten hours a week. Tuesday and Thursday, four to eight and Saturday, one to three. I made enough money to buy groceries for the week.

I feel this is an accomplishment on my part.

My mother works at a small store down the block. The owner is a guy she went to high school with. After explaining our situation to him, he was more then happy to help my mom out.

I walked into my house at eight twenty. I shut the door and locked it. As I turned back around I saw my mother standing at the bottom of the staircase.

She looked fatigued. Yet, she looked almost pretty. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun. A few strands had fallen over her face, making her look almost tranquil Her skin was pale but gave her a porcelain look, it helped that her cheeks were flushed and her blue eyes were clear. She was wearing jeans and a purple sweater; she still had a somewhat young figure.

I smiled as she stepped down from the last step and sighed heavily.

"Can you bring your sister a glass of water? I just don't think I can make it back up there." Her voice crack in the middle of her sentence.

I knew what she meant, what she was _really_ thinking.

She couldn't bare to go back up there, not so soon, not when _she_ was paler then a piece of paper.

"How is she doing?" I asked, losing my own voice. I walked to the kitchen and poured _her_ a glass of water. Honestly, I didn't want to go up there either.

"She's ok." For now. I finished for her.

Nodding my head and gently taking off my jacket, I began heading to the second floor.

Her door was to be kept shut at all times. I couldn't stay in there longer then a few minutes. In my mother's mind she was the only one truly immune from my sister's "sickness". I wasn't even sure what was _actually_ wrong with _her_. No one ever told me.

I walked in and placed the water on the nightstand. She was sleeping, fitfully. She was very pale; she had never been this pale. Her hair was still short; she had always liked it short, so once a month my mother would cut it. I gently felt her head. Her body was extremely hot, but her hands were like ice.

It _never_ used to be like this. Not _before_.

I gently slid out of the room and into my own. I walked over to my desk and began looking at various photographs that I had taken.

I smiled as I looked at the one I had taken of my sister two years ago. She had been outside, just sitting on the stoop. She looked so calm, so peaceful. She had no idea the camera was on her. Those made the best pictures.

As I moved away from the desk and laid in my bed, I thought about _that_ night.

It was a Sunday night, about four years ago, I had come home from an afternoon of baseball with the "gang" and a pizza party. It was past nine o'clock.

I walked into the living room where my mother sat on the couch, crying.

She looked at me and stopped the sob that was about to escape from her throat. 'You're sister is sick.'

I looked at her. I couldn't understand it. _She_ had been hugging me mere hours ago. 'Is she going to be ok?' I remember asking, already knowing the answer.

The sob my mother had been trying to hold in fell from her lips, answering my question.

I then asked if my father was here. No, those weren't the words I used. I think I asked if _he_ was here, in our home. I said it distastefully, as if I had just eaten something bad.

My mother shook her head, tears rolling down her cheek.

He had left us about half a year at that point. One day he just came home packed his luggage, and off he went. The divorce was made official when I was in eighth grade, a year after she was said to be "incurable".

I had gone to my room not asking anymore questions. I knew then everything, _everything_, would be different.

I remember what my first two _real_ thoughts had been. I was never going to get attention from my parents, _ever_. And if she came back home, was I going to get her sickness and have to suffer as well?

Yes, I _am_ that screwed up.


	2. Idea of death

(_If beauty is only in the eye of the beholder... I wish I were blind_)

I looked like hell. No, that didn't give justice to the situation. I looked like death himself.

She had kept us up all night, her coughs erupting through the darken rooms of our house. My mother had stayed in her room. I know because the sobbing never came, mother would never cry in the presence of her eldest daughter.

I hadn't _felt_ tired last night. I had been reading, or drawing, or writing, I wasn't too sure.

I walked into the hallways of school, dripping wet. I stared ahead, ignoring whatever looks were following me down the hall. My hair was matted to my neck. I could feel the icy waters still rolling down my back.

"Helga?" I looked at Phoebe who was waiting at my locker. Her mouth was open, staring at me. "Why would you walk in the rain?"

"I missed the bus." I said. I was cold, very cold. I wasn't sure why though; I had been so numb for so long.

"You should have called my cell!" Phoebe began scolding me.

Opening my locker I looked at the mirror that she had put in a few months ago. Phoebe sometimes used my locker. After she began going out with Gerald she put a mirror in my locker, it seemed illogical at the time.

I stared at my reflection. I was looking pale, sickly even. My hair was curling from the excessive water. I was never one to care about appearances, but for some reason, I felt so ugly. The only thing I could comment on was that my trademark uni-brow, was no longer trademark. _She_ had slept over in fifth grade, a girl's night out. It had been the most painful night of my life.

What I wouldn't give to have another "girl's night out" with _her_.

I felt something drape over my shoulders. I looked from the mirror to the boy with the cornflower hair, the _obsession_. He was smiling softly, his lettermen jacket hanging around my thin frame. I was too tired to say a snide remark or even to shrug off the very warm coat.

"Thanks." I mumbled. He had been apart of my life since I was four; it was hard to believe he hadn't given up yet. I would have given up.

"What happened?" He asked.

As if it isn't obvious, I heard in the back of my mind. I turned and looked into my locker again staring into my ghostly reflection.

"I missed the bus." I repeated.

"Couldn't your mom or dad drive you?" I heard his words half-heartedly. I sighed trying to pry my eyes from the girl in the mirror. I was trying to convince myself it wasn't really me.

"They were busy." I heard my voice answer. For four years I had an answer for almost any question ready to be said. Sometimes without even knowing what I was saying the words were already falling from my lips.

"With what?" He asked slowly, tempting my temper.

I grabbed one of my books and shut the locker; secretly hoping the mirror would break.

Seven years didn't seem to really bother me at this point.

I looked at him, I wanted to scream or cry. I wanted to fall apart in his arms. But I wouldn't.

"Things, I don't know. It's my own fault for not bringing an umbrella." My voice was leveled. Something that had never been my strong suite.

In sixth grade I had begun opening up. I was being friendly and civil to everyone. That all changed after _that_ night.

In my mind, who would know what to do? Who would know what to say? Who would _understand_?

"I have to get to class." I said before either he or Phoebe could say something.

They didn't know what was going on with me or even my family. Not about the divorce, not about Bob's new wife and son, not about Miriam's nightly breakdowns, and most certainly not about Olga's "sickness". Phoebe knew something was _wrong_. But she had no _idea_ how wrong.

In my mind it was none of their damn business. That was logical, that made sense. It was _my_ life.

Reality has a funny way of screwing you over. Every time.

Before I could reach my class a warm hand wrapped around my arm. This caused the very warm, the very safe jacket to fall from my shoulders. I was still wet and my sweater just made the cold atmosphere, colder.

I turned and stared into two large orbs of green. They held patience and caring and yet I was more scared of these green eyes then that of the dark blue of my dying sister's. Her eyes held death and pain.

"What?" I said. I felt a tiny shiver move it's self up and down my spine.

He looked at me, sighed, and then picked up the jacket. For the second time that day he wrapped the overly large jacket around my thin frame. I felt I must have looked weak in front of him because I took a step back.

"What?" I asked again, I didn't want _his_ pity. I didn't want anyone's. I don't need _pity_.

"I hate seeing you like this." He said. I could tell he had been bouncing the words in his head for some time. "You look like you haven't eaten in days. You always look tired and ready to fall apart. You don't look..." He paused and stared at me. I averted my eyes and concentrated on a spot on the floor. "Healthy."

I closed my eyes tightly. Of course I don't look healthy I mused. I'm not.

"I'm fine." I heard some higher power talking through me. "It's just been a hard week." More like a hard life. "I'll be fine before you know it."

I forced myself to smile. I'm sure I looked like some deranged clown. Soaking wet, dull eyes, pale features, crying on the inside, insane to the world, but I was smiling.

He didn't seem to buy this smile. On some level I couldn't blame him. I saw his hand move towards my face. I froze, curious to know what the _hell_ he was doing. He pushed back some strands of wet hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear.

"I want you to know that I'm here for you." He said, looking at me. "Ok?"

"Ok." Again some higher power was talking through me.

His hand dropped and he gave me a half smile. I felt a full one would have meant that we had bonded. A half smile gave me some form of comfort. Nothing had changed.

Yet.

(_Everything and everyone changes, it's a fact of life. Admitting to the change is the only power you got, sweetheart_.)

I walked into my house around three thirty. It was Friday, so that meant no work and no school meetings of any sort.

Making my way to the kitchen I noticed briefly that there was a familiar-ish type of coat sitting on the couch. I turned around immediately.

I made my way upstairs and saw my mother standing in front of Olga's door.

"What's going on?" I asked. I wondered if she could here the anger in my voice, and if she was ignoring it.

"He's been in there all morning. I don't know quite what he is doing." She said.

My father, Big Bob Pataki, king of the Beeper Empire, was a jackass.

At least if you were his first wife and his youngest daughter.

If by chance you were Olga, his new wife Cynthia, his new son Robert, or hell, a man off the street, Bob might not have been such a bad guy in your eyes.

Everyday, while I was in school and mom was at her job, Bob came to spend an hour or so with Olga. He would talk to her, read to her, he bought her a blue Gucci dress for her birthday last year. (I think he wants her to be buried in it.) He did all this without having to see Miriam or myself. He thought himself _sly_.

It took all my self control not to throw open the door and berate him in front of Olga. That and the comforting hand of my mother's on my shoulder helped.

About ten minutes, both of us standing in front of _her_ door, waiting, Bob emerged. His eyes were dry, but one could tell he had been crying, one who had cried every night before falling asleep. He barely acknowledged Miriam or me.

"What the hell were you doing in there?" I heard someone ask. It gave me a little strength when I realized it had been my mother's voice.

"Seeing _my_ daughter." Bob had to pay the medical bills. He felt that this gave him legal and honorable right to come and go from our house whenever he wanted.

"You are suppose to leave before me or _my_ daughter gets home." She said, fury in her voice.

I found this meaningful. My mother had never been that strong, not until our lives began slowly crumbling. Somewhere along the line she had _indeed_ become a real mother. At least to me.

Bob stayed with calm eyes and looked at her and then at me.

"I'm sorry." He said, his voice unwavering. "I guess I lost track of time."

My mother glared at him, her arm still safely around my shoulders. I had to be about the same height as her. Give or take. But I still felt somewhat safe. No, not safe, more like salvaged.

"You should do something about her." He said looking at me. "She looks sick."

He turned around and headed down the stairs. I listened to him move from the hall to the living room back to the hall and out the front door.

Miriam turned and looked at me, as if she hadn't seen me in days. Maybe she hadn't. I saw her eyes clouding over somewhat.

I knew I wasn't sick, but I wasn't healthy either. My appearance would at least show that.

"You look so tired, why don't you go to sleep. I'll call your boss tomorrow. Maybe you should go stay with your grandmother for the weekend." She was trying to be motherly.

"What about you and Olga?" I heard myself say.

I could hear the sound of Bob's car zooming out of the street.

"We'll be fine... worry about _you_." She said.

I looked at her. I couldn't win.

I really didn't want too.

She smiled as she sent me to my bedroom. I heard her go into Olga's room and close the door behind her.

I wandered what she was saying to Olga. Was she asking what _he_ had wanted? What had _he_ talked about?

Shaking my head I took out the small suite case from my closet. I began putting clothes and other items into it.

I don't think I finished packing when I hit the bed and fell off into a morbid sleep. One never remembers such things as this.

(_Just think of happy things and your heart will fly on wings, forever, in Never Never Land_.)

I never made it to my grandmother's. She called Saturday to tell my mother she would be coming down on Sunday and to get the guestroom ready.

She was all smiles when she walked into our house. She gave me a large hug, a box of caramel turtles, and a book called _The youngest of 52_. She hugged my mother and whispered comforting words to her and then flew up the stairs to see Olga.

She spent all of Sunday reading Jane Austin to Olga. She seemed to have some magical power that made everything seem as if it would all be all right.

I slept the majority of Sunday afternoon. I had only gotten up to eat some dinner. Grandmother made me eat four helpings. I then fell back off to sleep around six.

Around three in the morning Olga's coughing started again. I calculated I had gotten at least fourteen hours of sleep. I didn't need anymore.

I could hear my mother and grandmother rushing around the house and then tending to Olga.

I found this amusing, three generations standing in a room together.

Reality then shot an arrow through the air.

One was old, preparing her journey towards death. One had a breakdown every night; it wasn't long till she fell apart. And the third, the youngest of the three was the closest to death's towering door.

It was no longer amusing.

Before I knew it Wednesday had rolled itself around. Grandmother had called my job and told them I would not be in all week, and told me to get out of whatever school activities I had. The school knows of my predicament, the principal and the nurse at least. It's not hard to "skip" a few things; they actually encourage it.

I hadn't gotten a lot of sleep, but much more then I usual got.

I got home from school and smiled as I saw my mother drinking a cup of tea and looking at the newspaper.

It looked like an image out of a magazine; I was waiting for the dashing husband to walk in, a large smile on his face, and the two younger children running into the living room to greet their parents. They would eat a hearty dinner and then watch ABC until nine when the two children would be ushered to bed. Mother and father would reside in each other's arms watching Law &Order, agreeing how they were happy to have such perfect lives.

"How are you feeling?" I was snapped out of my revenue by my mother's voice.

"Huh?" I mumbled, the picture perfect family rushing from my mind.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, yes I am." I wasn't as tired if that's what she was asking.

"You look much better then you did Friday." She smiled. Did I?

"Is grandma still here?" I asked.

"She just left sweetie. She said she loved you and she would write you soon." My mother had a pretty smile I decided. It was sweet and sincere. You could trust a person with a smile like that, even if you didn't want too.

"I guess I'll call her later this weekend." I nodded. I then turned and made my way to my bedroom.

As I placed my hand on the knob I looked over to my sister's room. I let my hand drop as I walked over, gently opening the door.

"Mama?" I heard her whisper.

"It's Helga." I said, shutting the door quietly behind me. "I wanted to make sure you were ok. Do you need anything?"

"No, no I'm fine dear baby sister." I knew she had to cough, but she stopped herself. If she began coughing I would have to leave the room, immediately. I wouldn't be able to go back in for ten minutes that's how long it took the sanitizer to sanitize.

This seemed almost useful.

"Are you sure?" I could hear my voice but something else was making me say these words, ask these question. Compassion, I thought I never had, was using its hand to win the game.

"I'm perfectly fine." She smiled. Her eyes were so clear. You could see yourself perfectly in them. One would never imagine pain to grace eyes like hers.

Her smile was somewhat haunting. It _was_ her smile. But now it was almost like a cruel joke. It no longer lit up her face in that annoying way that made her _Olga_.

I tried to smile back, but as I looked at her, pale and thin. (Much more so then my own unhealthy being.) I felt the need to suddenly cry. I not only wanted to cry I wanted to suffocate myself so that even through death I would still be crying.

"Baby sister, you look so unfit. Have you been feeling alright?" What the hell was with everyone and _me_ being the sick one? _She_ was the one _dying_.

"I'm fine." I said, harshness coating such simple words. I instantly regretted it. She didn't seem to notice it though.

"I'm glad." She smiled her haunting smile once again. "I don't want you getting sick. You don't _deserve_ to be sick."

That was it, I was going in the bathroom to cut my wrists right now.

"You don't either." That damn higher power would be taken me over soon. I sighed and looked around her room.

There was a bookshelf and her desk. Books littered the floor around her bed. The walls were still floral and colorful. It almost didn't seem like she was lying in bed waiting the hands of her maker. It almost seemed like she was home from college, for the weekend, trying to relax.

"No one deserves to be sick my dear baby sister. It just happens." I wanted to shoot any person who ever said a bad word about Olga. I decided that suicide, then, would have to take a backseat.

"Aren't you upset?" I asked. I heard her sigh. A very shaky sigh. I knew I was causing her pain. Just by making her talk so much and think. One should not have to think when in a bed dying.

"No." She said after a few seconds. "Should I be?"

"You're dying." I said quickly.

I stared at her as I realized what I had said. I _knew_ she knew she was dying. But I acted as if I had just revealed the end of the movie. I think on some level, I had.

I believe it might have been the medication, or her own mind dwindling down. By some power, much more in control then either of us, she began to laugh. It was nothing but haggard breaths with a tone of laughter, but it was _her_ laughter none-the-less.

"You are the first one, baby sister, to let reality take a precedence."

"Excuse me?" I asked, in a state of alignment my sister could still confuse me.

"You didn't feed me bullshit." She "laughed" again.

Oh, so I _was_ the moron in the movie theatre, I thought. I'm positive mother would never use the word death in Olga's presence. Bob wouldn't even _think_ it. I've been in here for five minutes and just _completely_ made her day.

Sarcasm is my one and only true friend. It can never leave me.

"Oh baby sister." She said, I suppose just to say. Suddenly, though, her "laughter died down. Her chest began moving rapidly.

She began coughing. She looked over at me, holding her mouth. She motioned to get out of her room.

I slid out the door and went to the stairs.

"Mom!" I didn't have to scream I knew Miriam could hear the coughs a block away.

Mother was soon hurrying up the stairs with Olga's medicine and a glass of water.

"Why don't you go lay down?" She said as she passed me.

I watched as she slid into Olga's room and shut the door with a slam.

I entered my own bedroom and suddenly felt the effects of guilt wash over my body. I sat on the bed and looked around. It was already getting dark outside. My room was practically pitch black. I didn't want to turn on the light. Light meant something good. What the _hell_ was so good?

I looked at my pillow and soon the sobs came.

For once it wasn't my mother's.

It certainly did not mean the end of the ritual.

It meant the beginning.

(_An example they give is him jumping off a building and then figuring out how not to die on the way down_.)

I sat in my sixth period class. I felt the affects of last night slowly taking over my body. I was happy to have the day off.

My teacher was closing the class with a passage from the book we were suppose to be reading. Like most of the other students I nodded my head and agreed it was a wonderful ending.

I tenderly took my books and began walking out with the rest of the class. I suppose the bell had rung.

"Hey." I turned, confused. This washed away as two familiar green eyes, cat like eyes, stared at me.

"Hi." I said, looking back towards the hallway.

"How are you feeling? You're looking better." I heard the awkwardness in his voice. I wanted to stop and hold my hand up infront of his face and just tell him to give up, to get over it.

Part of me was dying too do just that. The other part would do no such thing.

"I'm actually feeling a lot better. My grandmother came for the weekend, I always sleep better when she's visiting." I watched his reaction. I could tell he was storing this information away. Ammo, I thought immediately.

"Wow."

"What?"

"I think that's the longest explanation you've ever given me." Some would think this obnoxious and almost sarcastic. But I knew the truth in which he spoke. I never told him anything. To him, that little fact about my life was like a book of secrets. It's sad.

"I'm glad to have made your day." I said. My class was so close. Maybe fifteen more steps or so.

"Helga." He said it with such _emotion_, I had to stop. I simply turned and looked at him. I felt whatever little composure I had left, slipping away from me. I looked at his muscular arms and chest, his warm embrace; I wanted so much just to seek comfort. But that just _would not_ do. "My family is having this like, big dinner, sort of thing... I was wondering... hoping... maybe... you want to come?" He said last part somewhat quickly. His words weren't lost to me though.

This wasn't the first time he had invited me to his house; it wouldn't be the last. I guess he figured if I was on his territory, with his terms, he might win the battle.

I knew I'd win the war.

He was pleading with me. Soft green eyes staring into my, I could only imagine, dull blue eyes.

I thought about _home_. Miriam rushing around to make sure everything was comfortable and warm enough. Olga coughing or sleeping, medicine working in one way or the other. I wanted to go.

I wanted to escape what had become my personal prison.

A few hours would not kill anyone.

That was a bad choice of words. I am a moron.

I looked at him and nodded slowly. "Ok."

He lit up. I was waiting for the sun to come blasting from his head.

"Great! I'll tell my mom to expect another person!" He looked like he was about to explode. He gave me an award winning smiled and then hugged me tightly.

This caught me off guard. I suddenly felt breathless and even faint.

"Saturday, six o'clock!" He said, hurrying into the other direction. I turned and looked at my class. It suddenly seemed farther away.

I also noticed the hallways were empty. The bell had once again rung, and I had not heard it.

As I began walking towards my class, I suddenly felt very weird. I quickly reached out my arm and grabbed on to the lockers for support. I felt myself grasping for air.

As suddenly as it came, it went. The feelings, though, lingered on my mind and my body. I looked around, there wasn't a soul walking through the hallway.

I took a deep breath and straightened my blouse.

I was _not_ sick. She was the one dying, _not_ me.

It was a simple panic attack; I've been getting them since I was little. Nothing to worry about.

I paused as I touched the handle to my classroom. Tears stung at the back of my eyes. Two more periods to go, I thought.

This however made the sting harsher.

Maybe I was sick.

No one _deserves_ to be sick.

So, maybe I was dying.


	3. Higher Power

(_I don't know how I function from day to day, but I do, so of course the most logical thing is, I deserve something for the functioning that is being done_.)

I looked in the mirror for the umpteenth time that afternoon. I stared at my reflection as if it was going to change. Hopefully into something somewhat _decent_.

I guess I didn't look that bad. My generally curly/waving blonde hair was straight and in a ponytail. I was wearing jeans, my black boots, and a black long sleeve shirt that had, in sparkling pink letters, "damaged" written across it. This seemed befitting.

I looked at the clock and sighed a little. It was already five forty-five. I left my room closing the door and made my way downstairs.

"Mom?" I asked as I began putting on my black petty coat. "Mom?" I grabbed the box of assorted chocolates I bought from the store and wandered into the living room.

Miriam had fallen asleep on the couch. Her feet were up on the coffee table and her arms were folded against her chest. I sighed.

I scribbled a small note and then covered her with a blanket. I knew if I waited any longer I would have never left.

It took about ten minutes to get to his house. The cold air nipped at my face. This however didn't bother me. Few things did at this point.

I stood on his stoop waiting for someone to open the door. I remember playing at the bottom when we were younger. Jump roping to silly rhymes using his name. It was hard to think of those days now. It was like they weren't _real_, dreams I had during a better time.

"Hello?" I turned and looked at a short woman, maybe two or three inches from my own height, with shoulder length brown hair and a pretty smile. "You must be Helga."

"Yes, um… I bought you these." I handed her the chocolates; she seemed to be extremely please because her smile widen.

"What a sweetheart. Thank you so much. Please come in." She opened the door further and gently put her hand on my shoulder once I was in. "Arnold will be down in a minute."

"Thank you—"

"Stella," She smiled. I nodded.

"Stella." The name was smooth and rolled off my tongue. I took off my jacket and she commented on how she liked my shirt. I nodded and thanked her again.

This wasn't the first time I've met her. When they were first "discovered" back in sixth grade, Arnold had some big party for them. I had seen them briefly but I was surprised at how affectionate they had taken to Hillwood. Stella refused to let Arnold out of her sight and his father… what was his name? He was socializing and having fun. They looked like the ideal family.

I mused that there was no _such_ thing. Then again, what do I know?

"Hey!" I turned and looked at the taller boy with the cornflower hair. He was giddy. This sickened me on some level, but I felt my own lips twitch in a smile.

"Hi." I said. He grabbed my arm and dragged me towards the dining room.

"I didn't think you were going to come. You seemed so weird on the phone. Well not weird weird, but you know." He said in a rush. This was like a first date I thought. It's awkward and while one is excited the other is counting the minutes for it to be over.

Not that I was _counting_ or anything.

His grandmother was seated at one end of the table and his grandfather at the other.

"So…" I looked over to his grandfather and smiled. "You're the Pataki's girl, right?"

"Yes." I nodded.

"Is your father still a moron?"

"Grandpa!"

"Yes." I nodded again. I turned to see Arnold covering his face with his hand.

"It's ok short man, she agreed." His grandfather then began laughing. This made me smile.

"So Eleanor, how have you been? Young Franklin here says that you've been quite busy to come join us for tea." His grandmother wore a somewhat crazy smile. I nodded.

"I have been somewhat very busy. But I will have to make time to come have tea with you."

His grandmother's face lit up and she thrusted her hand in the air with a loud 'whoop'. "Brava Eleanor, brava!"

The best people never changed, I believe they become better.

"Had I known everyone was in here…" Arnold's father smiled as he walked in and sat across from Arnold. He looked me over and nodded. I wasn't sure why. But Arnold seemed to be telling him to cut it out.

I knew that this was all one of Arnold's lovely little schemes to break down my walls. I mused that if I were to have a breakdown, right here and now, the boy would be having a party.

"Do you like lamb Helga?" I smiled at Stella who was bringing in some plates. I noticed Arnold went in the kitchen to gather the rest of the plates.

"Yes, I do." I had been taught to be polite when with company, I just can't remember who taught me.

"Let's eat!" Arnold's father and grandfather said together as Arnold sat down from bringing in the last of the plates. I noticed Stella and Arnold glaring at them and his grandmother just sort of staring at his grandfather. I then heard laughter.

It took a few seconds, but I figured out who had found this funny. Me.

(_As the night went on I couldn't help but smile… maybe I wasn't such a lost cause after all_.)

As we ate and talked I found myself enjoy their company more and more. I could tell Arnold knew this because he looked pleased with himself.

We were finishing up when I felt somewhat tired. Not only did I feel tired but also my throat began to hurt.

And then the coughing came.

It was nothing like my sister's hollow coughing; it was short coughs that erupted quickly. I saw a glass of water placed in front of me and I quickly drank some. This seemed to calm the coughing.

I looked up to see a worried Stella and a more worrisome Arnold.

"I'm sorry." My higher power was taking over again. "This weather."

My higher power seemed to protect while slowly screwing me up. I would be surprised if one day I tripped while getting myself out of being shot.

My world is pretty screwed up.

"Are you sure you're ok dear?" Stella asked. She was a doctor my mind screamed at me. Ask for help.

"Eleanor's fine!" I heard his grandmother say, even though her tone defied her words.

"I'm ok." I heard the higher power say.

I put my head down and began staring into my plate I had eaten maybe half of what they had given me. The food wasn't bad or anything, it's just I wasn't hungry.

"Well, Arnold, why don't you and your grandfather clear the table and Helga you can go watch some TV in the living room until Arnold gets done." Stella gave me a warm smile.

She _is_ the perfect mother. I can feel it.

"I can help." I said.

"Nonsense! You are a guest in our home!" She slightly scolded, but smiled none the less.

Arnold gave me a warm smile as I found myself in the living room. I didn't feel much like watching TV; I stopped trying to evade my life by living vicariously through a sitcom.

"Mind if I read the newspaper?" I looked up and smiled at Arnold's father.

"Sure, Mr.—"

"Please," He put his hand up. "Miles."

"Sure, Miles." I smiled.

I imagined him working on Wall Street, a cell phone in his hand ranting about how Thomas, the new comer, was a moron. He would come home very tired, almost unalive. Stella would float from her kitchen with fresh potatoes and lamb, an apple pie in the oven. They would share a kiss as Miles went into the study to read his newspaper and help Arnold with his homework.

Of course, being twisted and mentally ill (if nothing else), I found this to be ideal. This image of _family_ gave me comfort.

"Arnold sure talks highly of you." I looked at him surprised. "He says that you are a real pistol. Smart, creative, a real strong girl. He admires you."

"Thank you." I was unsure what to say, if my response was correct.

"Ever since we got back, actually, you are one of the people he talks about. I dare say that I would assume you and him were best friends."

I knew what he was hinting at. What he meant.

He had soft eyes, like Arnold, so very much like Arnold. You could feel safe talking to him. That all your secrets would follow him to the grave. I store this away. I might have to pay him one day to take away my doubts and fears.

Then again that _is_ why I have a therapist.

"Arnold is a really great guy." My higher power was taking over, but I was happy, I don't think I'm well enough to say anything that good.

"He is." Miles nodded curtly. "You're a great girl yourself Helga."

I'm still surprised I didn't fall over laughing, amused he fell for my lie. Instead I smiled softly and mumbled a humble thank you. If he thought I was a great girl, maybe I was.

But not everyone can see the same things.

"You want to hang out in my room?" I looked from Miles to Arnold.

I nodded, and then got up. I smiled at Miles and followed Arnold up the stairs.

My life is a long and strange trip.

I don't know if I'll survive it.

We got to his room and I looked around, Arnold will never change.

It's a simple well-known fact.

His room was exactly the same as it had been the last time I was there. Maybe five or six years ago. Blue walls, blue carpets, and a twin-size bed with a built in bookshelf around it. His bedroom had never gone through the problems of change. I envied it almost.

"How's your family?" He never could start off easy.

"They're doing…" I kinda was at a lost for words and ended the sentence by shrugging.

"Helga." He said it with this tone, as if he was here just to solve my problems. His tone suggested to make this as easy as possible.

"I don't know… they're… ok." I sat on his bed. He had a really comfortable bed. I could imagine sleeping on his bed.

I looked at him. I was feeling so tired and so, just out of it, and there he was. His eyes are _so_ big and hold so much of everything.

What the hell do I have to _give_ him?

Why is he so obsessed about finding out all about me?

Why couldn't he just be normal and give up on me?

I _would_ have given up so long ago.

Maybe I had given up.

Then why am I still here?

Because _he's_ here.

(_It's not the flying through air it's the without a net part I'm worried about_.)

I sat on the comfortable couch in Dr. Bliss's office. I had a two-hour session, once a month, every other month. I still don't know who pays for these sessions.

I remember asking her (who pays for them) and her looking at me, with that cat grin, asking "Does it really matter?" I remember feeling the urge to begin yelling, but then the higher power took control and had shrugged.

Most people have a weekly session with their therapist. Once again Dr. Bliss asked me if I _wanted _weekly sessions. I said no. Then, as an after thought, I said I deserved that much.

We both laughed as if it was a joke.

I had told her about Arnold in the first hour. How dinner the night before was enjoyable, but I didn't tell him anything.

"Not because I couldn't," I shook my head. "Cause I didn't want too."

We were now sitting in silence, she was doodling in her notebook and I was contemplating my life.

"They don't understand." I said out of no where.

"They don't." She agreed her cat grin on her face. She was analyzing me. Piece by piece.

"No one gets it." I continued.

She nodded and looked at me. "They might never."

I nodded and went back to staring into space.

Piece by piece had its advantages. Therapy itself had its advantages.

"Have any good dreams lately?" She asked.

I sighed. "One, actually, last night."

She might be the only one I will ever open too. I might die having only _talked_ to her.

"Tell me about it." She leaned back in her chair and folded her hands together over her chest.

I took in a deep breath.

I told her about how I had dreamt I was at the circus, except not really. How all the kids from my classes were dressed as clowns and they were laughing at me. Arnold had been the ringleader; he was dressed in a red jacket with a black vest and wore a top hat. Olga was the main attraction. She was dressed all in white; her hair pinned up in some unnecessary hair do. She was walking along barbwire. She was so poised. They had taken the net from under her. She began coughing, and she lost her balance, and she fell.

I stopped and looked at Dr. Bliss. I had noticed that I was no longer on the couch but next to the overly large window, staring into the abyss known as Fourth View Avenue.

"What do you feel it means?" She stopped asking specific questions when I stopped answering them.

I turned back to the window and sighed.

I had visited the circus when I was five, a week before kindergarten was starting. My grandmother had taken me and Olga, who was fifteen at the time. I had been so excited.

Before we even got into the tent a group of clowns came up to me. One boldly took a step towards me and poked me gently. The other clowns began laughing hysterically.

To this day I dislike clowns.

The ringleader of the circus was a young man. Tall and almost regal looking. He had a strong chin and curly red hair. He looked absolutely insane, but in a good way, a funny way. The things I remember most were his eyes and his smile. He had big green eyes that were joyful and held secrets, one could only assume funny secrets. He had a _nice_ smile. Not like an everyday type of smile, but a _nice_ smile. "Not everyone has nice smiles." I noted.

"Who else has a nice smile Helga?" I heard her voice but it sounded far away.

"Arnold, he has a nice smile." I was talking to the window, staring from the fifteenth floor.

The main attraction had been the Barbwired Ballerina. She was so beautiful in a flimsy tutu. She had dark skin. The white of her costume made her more pretty. I was in awe as I watched her tip toe from one end to the other. Doing ballerina tricks that only so many can perform. She was so graceful and everyone loved her. Everyone knew who she was.

"She never fell." I stated.

"Why is that?"

"She wasn't suppose to… it's her job to be perfect." I stared out of the window.

"Everyone falls though." Dr. Bliss said.

I could see my reflection in the smooth glass. "Not her." I heard my voice say. "She's immortal." I nodded. "In my mind."

Everyone should be immortal I heard her say, but she sound far away again.

I watched a man trip, but luckily he caught himself. His wife, or daughter, or sister, whatever woman had been walking with him took his arm. I wanted to think she was smiling he was ok.

"If every one was immortal," I heard my self speak as I stared out the window. "One would never have to suffer. Where's the fun in that?"

We spent the rest of the session discussing trivial matters. Dr. Bliss knew of what was going on at home. She knew about the divorce and Olga. She knew all the outside and so very little of the inside.

"Helga," She said as I was grabbing my coat. I looked at her. "All of life is a circus, only not everyone's laughing."

I nodded, taking this in and storing it away.

As I began to walk home I rolled over her words.

All the world loves a clown, I mused.

Why can't I?

Oh, by the way, about three years ago there was a small article in the newspaper, on the front page. The legendary Barbwire Ballerina had been doing her last and final show. She had just turned thirty-nine. She had been in the business for twenty years. She was doing one of her many tricks when she saw her younger sister (by seven years) faint in the crowd. She lost her balance and fell. Her sister had an asthma attack, after not having one in several years. They held a double funeral. I remember thinking that she was no longer immortal. I cried for two hours. Just for your information, of course.

(_I wanted to be perfect, so the world would love me too. But as always you showed me, all I needed was you_.)

I got home around six o'clock. The air was crisp and I could smell snow in the air. This made me smile, but only for a second.

As I entered the house I heard my mother's voice carrying from upstairs. She was reading to Olga. I dropped my coat near the door and walked into the kitchen. I was feeling ok, not great but not that bad.

My throat was a little dry. I got a glass of water and sat at the island. I was looking at various papers on the counter. They were newspaper articles and magazine clippings. My mother had picked up scrap booking at some point in time.

I looked around and noted that it was silent, almost calming.

I felt tears in the back of my eyes.

I knew it wasn't too much longer now.

There was no more _time_.

It was all going to come crashing down.

Then what? I thought. What's left after this?

A little voice in my head chuckled darkly. I cringed for I knew what he knew.

What _was_ left after _this_?

__

Nothing


	4. Survival of the fittest

(_You beat your head upon your wall, you disconnect yourself from it all_.)

I stared at the ceiling. It was five in the morning. I found this to be useless information.

Somewhere along the line it had rolled into Wednesday. We didn't get any snow, but they were predicting some soon.

I hadn't gotten any sleep. This isn't necessarily a bad thing. I've gone to school having gotten no sleep before. There was no doubt I would do it again.

There wasn't any real reason to have stayed up. She hadn't been coughing as much as she usually was.

One would think this good, but it only meant she was closer to death.

I continued to stare at the white ceiling. The way the shadows from my window danced together perfectly. It didn't matter that there were blinds and a curtain blocking the nightlife from my bedroom. Shadows don't have rules or restrictions. If a shadow wants to dance, it'll dance for the world to see.

They have a certain freedom that people don't have. But why shouldn't they? They're _shadows_.

I'm slowly going out of my mind. It's an accomplishment.

I turned and faced the room itself. The dull pink walls, the wooden floors, the desk with a white chair, it all laid unlived. The room looked almost abandoned. Well, maybe not the bed.

I was going to probably die in this bed.

My chest began constricting. I had to take a few deep breaths for the pain to cease. I was having more and more "symptoms" of illness. I wasn't sure if it was my mind playing tricks or Olga's "sickness" finally getting to me. The _monster_ was slowly taking over.

I thought if I did get _sick_ I want them (whoever them is) to take me out and shoot me. Like a dog. I don't want to suffer longer then I have too.

I haven't decided if that's a normal response or not.

I've never really been quite normal.

__

5:45

I would have to begin getting ready soon. Face the world and everyone in it.

This really didn't seem so bad. But it was. I just can't tell you why.

By the time I emerged from the bathroom it was already six ten. I threw on a pair of red track pants and a black long sleeved shirt. My hair, in all its curly/wavy glory, was secured in a messy bun as I made my way down the stairs.

"You want me to drive you to school?" I looked at my mother. She looked exhausted. I believe she might end up in an institution soon.

"I'm ok." I grabbed an apple and gave a quick smile. Smiles didn't mean anything in my house; I don't know why I bother. "I'll see you later."

"Bye dear." She said. I grabbed my coat and my book bag and began walking down the street towards my high school.

I had stopped taking the bus two months after starting ninth grade. The whole tradition of taking a bus to school seemed to sicken me. Traditional rituals of society _sickened_ me.

I looked at my watch as I neared the high school.

It was _6:50_, perfect I mused.

As I walked into the building I was happy to be ignored by the majority of the student body. This pleased me in many a way.

"Are you ok?" I heard a soft voice whisper in my ear. I spun around and stared at the boy with the big green eyes. He was smirking.

"I'm… I'm fine." I said, staring at him. He looked so good.

This is not a _time_ to think things such as this.

"I tried calling you last night. No one picked up." He had seen me in school, why must he bother me at home?

Granted my heart skipped a beat and I was trying to hold back a smile.

"I was studying." I shrugged, he was use to filling in my blanks with whatever thought he had and we go back to living our lives. _He'd_ go back to living his life. I, at this point in time, had _no_ life.

"I had a great time Saturday." He smiled.

"It was a lot of fun. Thank you for inviting me." He was following me to my locker.

"My parents simply love you. They went on and on about how nice and polite you are." I found this amusing but I held back my laughter. Laughter would be cruel.

"You're parents are really sweet too. But then again, I would expect them to be after knowing you for so long." He looked generally surprised. Why shouldn't he be? I heard the inner voice ask. You _complimented_ him it teased. It's not much longer now.

__

Damn. It _wasn't_ much longer now.

Next I'll be telling him about my parents, about Olga's sickness, how he makes me feel like a person. Like a real _person_, not some mistake placed here for someone's amusement. I liked being a real _person_.

Even though I'm not.

I looked at him. He did want to help. I couldn't deny that fact anymore. Hell, I wanted him to help. He was, after all, my _obsession_. He didn't know that though.

So help me, he never will.

Suddenly, I took a step back.

The _monster_ was coming back. I had to reach my hand out to grab something. I began coughing again. I covered my mouth as my other hand tightened on whatever it had grabbed a hold of. I felt myself being pulled into something. It was warm and hard, and yet soft, comforting almost. I continued to cough into my hand.

I felt this might _save_ someone.

The _monster_ soon settled down and I somewhat leaned into whatever had pulled me in.

"Are you ok?" I closed my eyes tightly hoping to pretend this was a dream, that when I opened them I would be in my room safe from everything. "Helga?"

I opened my eyes and stared into his red sweater. I gently took my hand from my mouth and looked up.

I've seen this look before I thought. My mother has that look every time she even _thinks_ of Olga. It's a cross between worried and helplessness.

"I'm fine." It was my own voice, my own thought track. "It's this weather and work, it's just…" I took in a sharp breath. "A way of life."

"Maybe you should see a doctor."

"I'm fine." I pushed myself away from him and turned to my locker. I opened the door so that it covered my view of him. I looked down at my hand as I noticed the red substance.

There is only one word in the _world_ that would describe my thoughts, my feelings, my over all being.

__

Fuck.

(_He laid on Park Avenue Suite, the perfect crime, the perfect crime. They never saw it coming on Park Avenue Suite, the perfect crime, the perfect crime_.)

I walked home with a headache. A vicious throbbing headache.

The _monster_ didn't rear its ugly head for the rest of the day. For this I was thankful.

Arnold watched me like a hawk, though. Everywhere I went I saw him. During lunch he followed me around the cafeteria. I wouldn't be surprised if I turned around and there he was.

I turned around and saw nothing but the cruel-ness of winter. This seemed to upset me. I pretend not to know why.

"Helga!" I turned around again and saw a sprinting Phoebe.

Where had _she_ been all this time?"

"Hey Pheebs." I said, half smiling. I think half-smiling; maybe I hadn't smiled at all.

"Don't you 'Hey Pheebs' me, missy!" She said, trying to catch her breath and sound angry at the same time.

I looked at her feeling amused. _This_ had to be _good_.

"Arnold told me about your little coughing fit this morning!"

"So, it's the middle of winter." I said coolly.

"You _never_ get sick." Right. She's my best friend (in theory of course) she would know that.

I silently sighed. _Damn_.

"Ok, so I never get sick. Never say never." I waved the matter off, but we were no longer in fourth grade, Phoebe had grown a backbone. I was proud and upset at the same time.

"Tell me what's going on. _Now_." I looked at her and stared. Where the hell had I been while all these goddamn changes happened around me? What the hell? Did they all take a vote and suddenly everyone _has_ to help me?

__

Screw this.

"Nothing!" I snapped. She took a step back, she seemed bold but she really wasn't. She didn't enjoy being snapped at. Who did though? "Everything is just peaches and cream in my life, ok? I do not need everyone fretting over whether I'm eating enough or sleeping enough. I am sixteen years old and have been independent since I was _four_. It didn't matter _then_ though, did it? So who the _hell_ cares if I'm dying or not dying. Is this reach out to Helga month? Suddenly everyone cares. _Screw you guys_." I turned around and began walking off.

Now, not only did I feel sickly, I also felt horrible. This is how one person can screw up their life in so little time.

"We're just trying to help." I heard her say. "We care for you."

I didn't stop or even slow my pace down. I was still too angry. I'm not sure who I was angry at, but I'm almost positive myself is at the top of the list.

"For how much longer?" I yelled back, continuing my walk home.

How much longer _could_ they keep caring?

Not much longer I silently prayed.

Let them be happy.

I've been a lost cause since the day I was born.

The world won't stop turning for me.

It never has.

(_If I die, for anything at all, I want you to know I died for love! If you don't believe that… I died for salvation_.)

I found myself wandering around the dark streets of Hillwood Thursday night. I had skipped school and had stayed in my bedroom attempting to sleep.

Bob had been unaware of the extra company and was, to say the least, upset that I had stayed home.

I told him to go screw himself.

This angered him.

I remember looking at him and then, with whatever strength I had, I slapped him. I began screaming about how he was most worthless man in the world. How I so wish it were him in that bed rather then Olga. How I hope that he just ups and dies. I continued with this screaming from Olga's door, to the stairs, to the hallway, towards the front door, and halfway down the street. Screaming like a lunatic about how Bob Pataki was a deadbeat.

That had to have been, oh, seven hours ago. Give or take. It was around eight fifteen. I had gone to work and left a few minutes early. I decided I didn't want to go home yet. I use the word home loosely.

I feel, no that's not right. I don't feel. There's nothing to feel. I want to just jump into the lake and see how long I would survive. I want to test fate. Raise my fist and heckle at her. See if this will be in my favor or in hers. I assume that since I am one of the funniest cosmic jokes, I might never die. Just to make it funnier.

However, I do not bring this point to them. Sometimes a bit of cruel irony is funnier then an assumption.

I noticed that I had walked myself to the boarding house.

It was empty now, except for of course Arnold's family.

As the years went on the boarders moved, they made their own lives.

Stella and Miles had renovated it to make it more house like, more family like. I believe they have two extra rooms still, which they sometimes rent to travelers or the occasional family member.

I knew it had changed on the inside. I'd seen it.

But it was still the Sunset Arms.

They could do whatever they want to it and it would still be the Sunset Arms.

This gave me hope.

"Helga?"

I decided I hate my name.

I turned around and looked at a confused Arnold. His hands were shoved into his pockets. I looked down to see a golden retriever sitting obediently at Arnold's feet.

"Who's the dog?" I said as I walked over and knelt down, petting the soft hair. The dog began wagging his tail and drooling.

"Simon, mom and dad got him for me in seventh grade." So he was still a puppy, interesting.

"He's cute." I said, continuing to pet him.

"Thanks." Arnold smiled. He looked around and then gave me an odd expression.

"What?" I asked without looking up.

"Why aren't you wearing a jacket?" I wasn't wearing a jacket?

I looked down at myself and noticed I was still in my jeans and a long sleeved shirt. I hadn't been cold though.

"I…" I couldn't even think of an excuse. I sighed and stood up dusting my hands on my jeans. Simon decided to stare at me, waiting for me to pet him again. I looked at Arnold. "I had a fight with my dad and stormed out."

This was true.

"What did you fight about?" He asked beginning to pet Simon without looking at him.

"Things." I said.

"Ok." I was slightly surprised to see him back down so quickly. I then figured out that Phoebe had probably told him, or told Gerald who told him, about yesterday afternoon.

He did not want to get snapped at. He didn't mind before I mused.

This made it hurt all the more.

"I better go." I said, shaking my head. Granted I'm not going _home_ but I was going.

"I'll walk you home."

You bastard.

I looked at him.

"I think I can manage." I said calmly.

"It's almost nine o'clock." He said, even more calmly. I looked at my watch and silently cursed time. _Time_ seems to be a never-ending issue in my life.

"I'll be find Arnoldo." I said.

The grabbing of my arm suddenly stopped me.

"Jeez!" I spun around.

He wasn't smiling; his eyes weren't big and comforting. He was frowning and silently commanding.

"Whether you like it or not." He said slowly. He wasn't hurting me, he was barely even holding my arm. "I do _care_ for you. So get off whatever little high horse you're on and let me _help_ you."

I slowly pulled my arm away and stared at him.

"Fine." I said. My voice barely above a whisper.

We began heading in the direction of my house.

"Look, I'm sorry." He's such a softie. "I didn't mean—"

"Please, can we just not talk?" I asked, maybe commanded.

Silence enveloped around us. I really, _really,_ did not want to go home.

Simon was slightly ahead of us, turning his head every once and a while to make sure we didn't turn any corners and go down any alleys. He was a smart creature.

When we finally reached my house I turned and gave Arnold a soft look.

"Thank you." I said quietly. He nodded his head and then smiled a bit.

He leaned in and left a small kiss on my cheek. My eyes became wide, like a dear in the headlights.

"I'll see you at school, hopefully." He smiled.

I then realized that he hadn't asked about my absence from school, but he had noticed.

I watched him walk away as I gently placed my hand over my cheek. It was warm.

I turned and walked into my house shutting the door and then leaning into it.

Then I cried.

I cried for feeling like a bitch. I cried for my sister. I cried for everything that I just didn't understand anymore.

I was so confused.

I cried for me.

Deep down, we are all selfish.

You just know that Mother Theresa woke up one morning and looked around and said "Can't I just sleep in today?"

I sat in a heap of tears and sobs at the front door.

I wanted it all to end.

(_To say one is healthy is to know that mentally, physically, and emotionally they are perfect. No one's perfect. Therefore, no one's healthy_.)

I feel as if I'll die soon. Not for any reason. At least that's what _they'll_ say.

"She was perfectly healthy. How wrong it was for **him** to take her, at such a young age too." They will then drink coffee and eat cake and discuss the death rate of adolescence between the ages of fourteen and eighteen. I would fall in the middle. _Sweet Sixteen_.

Any moment now Death will walk into my room with his heavy black robes and an impatient air about him.

He'll walk over to me as I stare at him in awe. I would have known he was coming.

"Hurry." He'll say impatiently. He'll look at his watch that only he can see. "Let's go, there's much to do." He'll put out his hand. "You're wasting my _time_."

How can I waste his time? He _is_ time.

I'll take his hand and we'll walk together.

I'll eventually convince him to take a break, to allow me a chance to be _time_. Of course he'll agree. I will have control of everything. Visible to those who are about to die and to those I want to see me.

Power will be _mine_.

I rolled over and stared at the curtained window.

This is proof I'm going out of my mind.

It's not much longer now.

I close my eyes tightly.

I don't think I'm going to survive.


	5. Broken Abyss

****

Oh man I'm so sorry for the delay! I was having such issues writing this chapter. You can tell the first… two scenes or so are a little… weird. But as you get to the… I don't know… maybe third or fourth scene it's better… written better. Those are the parts that I planned out. I just needed to get into it some how. Idk, it's weird. The next chapter will be out by Wednesday the latest. I promise! Thanks to all the Reviews! You guys are the greatest! And about Helga's illness… I already no if she's going to die or not. If you really want to know if she dies or not you can email me of im me on BabyPink28SH on AIM. If you leave it in the review just leave an email and I'll get back to you. I pretty much have the rest of the story planned out… there's maybe two or three more chapters left. If you have any questions, comments, anything, email or IM me :) Thanks again. Hope you enjoy!

(_I just want to reach the end of the tunnel and see the light. I haven't seen the light in so long_.)

The sun was beyond bright this morning.

As the weekend had rolled into Monday and then finally into Wednesday, I found myself less talkative (if that was at all possible). I didn't feel as if I was all here.

My mind was wandering.

I had realized this morning, as I was putting on my sneakers, two more days till February fourteenth. Valentine's Day.

On some level this depressed me. While every other girl got candy, flowers, and cards, I got nothing. For four years I have sat in my desk trying hard not to begin just sobbing into my hands.

Arnold and Phoebe wouldn't _dare_ get me anything. I "hated" this holiday, if you'd call it a holiday. But they were wrong. I didn't hate it. I misunderstood it. I was unsure of what it really represented.

What did I know of love?

I held my books close to my chest as I walked to my locker. I had straightened my hair this morning (I woke up three hours early). I liked it straight. It made me feel like a different person. Maybe it gave the illusion I was a different person.

Maybe I'm just off the deep end.

The halls were busy with the usual gossip and cliques hanging by the lockers.

Everything was how it was suppose to be. At least that's how I get through the day.

I got to my locker and noticed that there was neither Phoebe nor Arnold. I don't know what I felt. I think I was upset, but I can't be sure.

"Hello Hel_ga_." I closed my eyes. I want to know what I did in another lifetime to deserve this.

"Hello _Lila_." I said with as much distaste as she had given me.

"What a _pleasure_ to _see_ you." She looked me up and down, clicking her tongue against her teeth in a disapproving matter.

"Likewise." I said blandly turning back to my locker.

"I've noticed that Arnold has been hanging around you a lot lately." She clicked her teeth again.

"So?" I asked shutting my locker and folding my arms.

She shrugged and began cleaning her nails. She was wearing a short skirt with a long sleeved shirt that had a low V-neck. Slut.

"You know that he's _my_ boyfriend." She said still trying to play cool.

I wandered where her little followers were. This surprised me.

"Since when?" I asked. This was getting amusing. Arnold would never go for the little tramp. Not after seventh grade when they had "gone out" for a week and then she dumped him.

"Saturday." She now had her hand out in front of her admiring the red shiny nail polish.

"Really now?" I said. Where the hell was this coming from? Why would I care if Ms. Perfect and Mr. Perfect were going out?

"Really." Lila said. She put her hand down and smirked at me. "I guess you'll have to find some new friends."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Don't let her get to you, I thought. She just wants to get to you.

"Well now that I have a boyfriend… your _friend_, I will be getting all that attention he keeps giving you. And I heard Phoebe talking to Gerald. She was not too pleased by such a _bitch_ snapping at her. So, Helga? Who's left?

I stood and stared at her. Now let's think of this logically. I am paranoid, neoteric, and slowly going out of my mind. I so _did_ _not_ need this.

"Screw you." I began walking away. I had five more classes but there was no way I was staying in this school. Not for another second.

"Have fun playing the lonely misfit." She said. I could imagine her smirking while waving her little hand.

Why the hell is she bothering me?

I thought back to fifth grade. Arnold and I had to do a project together. Lila was so jealous that she spilt red paint all over me.

They called me Carrie for two weeks.

Ah, _memories_.

(_Sometimes I pretend that I'm somewhere else, that I'm not really me, that I'm someone better. It works until I hear my name or see something I know. It works until I figure out that I'm the same person from this morning, from last night_.)

I sat on the grass in the park. It was a small area that was hidden behind an overly large willow tree. I was leaning against the tree staring into the abyss known was the Summer Forest.

When I was little. Really little, like I had to have been four or five. Olga had taken me to the edge of Summer forest to have a picnic. (Miriam forgot to cook.) I pretended that I was a princess and I ruled the forest. Everything in the forest was mine. Olga had smiled and said that if I was the princess she was my trusty advisor.

I don't know when we stopped playing pretend. Maybe it was when she left for college and I slowly realized what Olga meant to my parents. What I had meant to them. Jealousy makes you do _crazy things_.

I began coughing again. The monster was taking over. He had been doing that a lot lately. At night mostly. I had to keep my face buried in my pillow. If Miriam found out, I don't know what she do. Slowly the coughs died down and I found myself swallowing the taste of blood down my throat.

When would this all end?

"Hey."

Obviously never.

I looked up and felt my stomach sink. I was expecting to see Arnold or Phoebe. But Arnold's voice is not as gruff and Phoebe is a girl. This was clearly a "man's" voice. I looked at the taller boy. His black hair was cut short, his jeans baggy, and a nice white sweater that complimented his dark features.

I was very surprised on who I saw standing besides me.

"Hey Gerald." He took this as an invitation to sit down. I looked at him before turning back to the forest.

It was so quiet and peaceful. It was beautiful.

"You ran out of the school pretty quickly." My eyes fluttered from the forest to my watch. He was cutting school.

"I couldn't stay there." I said looking over at him and shrugged.

"What did Lila say?" I looked at him. What made him think he was so different? We're not even friends.

"Nothing." I said, looking away from him.

"Really? I know it looked like something." He said in a jokingly manner.

"I _don't_ need this." I said standing up.

Gerald is a star athlete. Graceful and swift. It's not hard for him to fly up and grab my arm.

"Ow!" I said turning to him. He loosened his grip dramatically and stared at me. I felt almost intimidated.

"I'm sorry." He said still not letting go of my arm. "But I just… you need to be like… you're impossible."

This was getting us far. I yanked my arm from around his hand and stared at him as I rubbed the bruise I know would be forming later. I was very easily bruised.

"What do you care?" I asked. I wanted to go on but I felt attacking him after he cut school to hunt me down would be impolite.

"Because Arnold is a freakin' wreck. If I even mention the first few letters of your name he flips out. And Phoebe has been like a zombie since you snapped at her. The two are losing themselves."

I looked at him and raised my eyebrow. "This is for them?"

I'm a sick person. I am. I don't want it to be about me, but I do. Why should Arnold and Phoebe be getting the attention here? Why should we be worrying about Phoebe and Arnold? What is so humanly wrong with them that while I'm dying people are fussing over them?

I'm so going straight to hell.

"This is for everyone." He said after a pause. "They care for you Helga. Whether you like it or not."

Ah, yes, they do care for me. Why does that bother me? And when they aren't caring for me, why does _that_ bothering me? Why can't I just find the middle and stick with it?

Because all your life you've only had one person whom really did care for you. Even when she was pissing you off.

And she's dying. You're back to where you were at the beginning.

It's only a matter of time.

I closed my eyes as the voice inside my head concocted words and excuses. As it tried to make sense of a delicate situation. As it tried to save me.

I looked at Gerald and noticed he had really nice eyes, chocolate brown with caramel edges. He looked like an old friend who I hadn't seen in years.

It wasn't like we were talking about death and life. Simply about the weather and what time it is in Belgium.

"Is Arnold going out with Lila?" I said it as calmly as possible. Trying to void any emotion from it.

"What? No!" Gerald said, disgust filling his voice. "Is that what she told you?"

"She said Phoebe called me a bitch. She said to have fun being a misfit." Maybe it was how she said it that got to me. She said it with such conviction. Truth masks the hideous lies.

I plopped back down on the grass.

I heard Gerald sigh and then sit down besides me.

"She's lying. She's a spoiled bitch." He began playing with a blade of grass. "Phoebe didn't call you a bitch, not at all, not even close. And Arnold, Helga he really does _care_ for you. He hasn't mentioned Lila since… forever."

Gerald is one of those guys who observes and comments right away but can later come back and tell you something you didn't think he had noticed. Sometimes even things you hadn't notice.

"Remember when we were nine." I felt him move to look at me, but I was focused on the trees. "We use to just run around on crazy adventures. Ghosts, demons, crazy trains, everything weird and childish from A to Z."

"Most kids do that Helga." He slightly chuckled.

"When did it change?" I ignored him. I wasn't even talking to him anymore. I was talking to the air in front of me.

"I guess when we grew up." He shrugged.

"When did you grow up?" I asked, still not looking at him.

"I guess I started after entering high school." He was implying that he wasn't grown up yet. Which is true, he still had lots to see and experience before he could say he was "grown up".

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned and looked at him. He had pity in his eyes as he gently opened his mouth. "When did _you_ grow up?"

(_You look around your world. It's so broken; you're so broken_.)

I smiled as I walked up to my house. Phoebe and I had made up after my little chat with Gerald. I still hadn't told her much more then that I would eventually be ok, but it was better then having her think I hated her.

I went up to Arnold yesterday before school ended and hugged him briefly in the hallway, surprising the crap out of him. I guess I was surprised too. Hell, the part of the school that was in the hallway was surprised. (Lila was turning green with envy and red with anger, Christmas came late I guess.)

I was finally feeling slightly better. Talking to Gerald helped in some twisted way. He didn't push for information but he didn't back off completely. He was the middleman.

I was happy to have my best friend back and to have Arnold back to his normal self.

Maybe this was my chance to find a normal self for me.

I opened the front door and walked in. I gently flung my coat on the rack and then proceeded through the living room to the kitchen.

"Mom! I'm home!" I shouted. I didn't get a response. I got some water and grabbed an apple.

She probably fell asleep in Olga's room. Which was fine. I wanted to go talk to Olga about a few things anyway. She would be happy to learn of my reconciliation with Phoebe. Maybe it would give me a chance to ask about my _lovely_ symptoms as well. Maybe they have a cure for my stage of the illness.

I opened the door to her room only to find it empty. _Completely empty_.

My head went into instance overload. Why hadn't Miriam called? What was going on? Maybe Olga was…

I ran down the stairs. As I passed the table in the hallway, I saw the button blinking on the answering machine. I stopped and pressed it.

It was Miriam. She sounded as if she had been crying. Every few words there would be a sob and then a sigh and then a few more words. It took her six sobs to get to the point of the message.

"…I'm so sorry Helga, she's—"

I was already out the door.

She was _gone_.

(_Sometimes you need a little rain to get to the rainbow. Maybe it takes a storm to get to the sunshine_.)

There's a bar downtown. _Simon's_. Miriam used to come here when I was ten. She would come home drunk as anything and collapsed on the couch.

The bartender was an old man that looked like he bathed in grease and dirt. You could tell his morals were low.

I felt like I was slowly slipping away. Maybe I wasn't happier earlier. Maybe I had convinced myself that it would get better and I was living on a lie.

She was gone.

It was the only phrase circulating around my head.

I never got to say good bye to her. I hadn't talked to her since yesterday morning. She was so peaceful. She barely even coughed last night.

Ah, the calm before the storm.

I would never get to see her again.

Another cruel irony, it was Valentine's Day. This was my present. Take away the only person who loved me. Thanks.

It wasn't until about my fourth or fifth rum and coke that I began loosening up. I was laughing and joking with the other depressed fools sitting at the bar.

Good times.

When I mention this part of the story to people they say I was being premature and illogical. Running off to a bar my mother used to lose herself to and losing myself.

I look them dead in the eye, roll my tongue along my lips and boldly say. "Like mother, like daughter."

Miriam hadn't taken a drink in four years. Not since Olga's situation happened. Not since she had to become an adult.

I know why she came to _Simon's_. It was a small place where as long as you have money no questions asked. Again the bartender obviously had some high morals.

"And _then_ she told me that I was a _bitch_." I began laughing hysterically as I told the guy sitting next to me about Lila. He looked at me with tired eyes and a half smile. I don't think he was completely with me as I told the story. He was probably in a half daze.

I jumped as I felt my cell phone vibrate against my hip.

"Hello!" I said laughing. I held my finger up to the guy sitting next to me and spun my chair so I was facing the opposite direction.

"Helga?"

"HI!" I practically screamed. I then continued to laugh.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing!" I shouted again. I could tell that the voice on the other end of the phone was surprised, even panicked.

"Where are you?"

"At _Simon's_." I said smiling. "Come have a drink with me!"

"You're at a _bar_?"

"Yep!" I laughed again. "It's downtown. Come have a drink with me Arnold!"

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Don't you _dare_ move."

"Ok!" I hung up the phone and turned to the guy next to me. "I'm not allowed to move."

"I'm not allowed to leave the city." He said taking a sip of his beer.

"Cool!" I said smiling. I looked at the bartender and threw down a ten. "A beer for my new friend here and another rum and coke. And make it snappy!"

I remember laughing.

(_I'm all alone in bed and I can't sleep, I'm feeling blue. I try to close my eyes but all I'm thinking of is you_.)

I woke up with a raging headache. As I tried to move my body screamed out in pain. I wanted to die. I was in so much pain.

Of course this did not stop me from trying to figure out where the hell I was. I wasn't in my bedroom because I was facing a wall with no window but rather a bookcase. And it was blue. I do not live in a blue room. The bed was also too comfortable to be my bed.

It was like a bed I could have slept on.

That's when the wheels began turning.

"Oh crap." I mumbled as I turned over (body screaming in pain). I allowed my eyes to round the room only to land on a certain blonde haired boy sleeping on the small couch in his bedroom. "Oh crap." I repeated closing my eyes tightly

"Morning to you too." I reopened my eyes to see him sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"How did I get here?" I asked. Moving my hand over my face. This is when I realized I was in the same clothes I had been in last night.

"I called you last night to see if you wanted to hang out today and you answered the phone drunk. You told me to come have a drink with you. I found the bar and brought you back here." He said.

Flashes of yesterday came into my head. Smiling, coming home, worried, a phone message, my heart stopping, and then drinking. Oh crap.

She was gone. That's why I had to escape, I had to lose myself. I couldn't stay in the house or go to the hospitable. I couldn't bear to see Bob and Miriam. Sitting at opposite sides of the waiting room crying and damaged. I couldn't cry. I couldn't sit in a room with them and not be able to cry.

"Can I take a shower?" I had to clean myself of everything. I had to just wash it all off of me.

"Yeah, sure." He said standing up and stretching. He went over to his dresser and pulled out a pair of sweat pants, a black tank top, and a sweatshirt. He also grabbed an extra towel from the top of a folded pile of laundry on his desk. "You need anything else?"

I looked at the pile and shook my head.

"It's down the stairs and then the door on the left. It's my bathroom so no one will bother you."

"Thanks." I mumbled. I then looked at him. I could feel the tears in the back of my eyes. "Really… thank you."

"Of course." He smiled.

I turned and walked down the stairs.

I entered the bathroom and closed the door locking it. I searched for a few minutes until I found an extra toothbrush and a bar of soap. I have issues using other people soap.

I stepped into the shower and turned the water as hot as I could feel. The issue here was I was so numb that I couldn't even feel how hot the water was. I didn't even know it was hot until I stepped out of the shower and found my pale body red with heat.

I ran the soap all over myself, washing away everything I could possibly wash away. I washed my hair and stood still under the water allowing the soap to run down to the floor of the tub.

As I let the water hit me and wash the alcohol from my system I thought about what it meant to no longer have Olga in my life.

It didn't mean much. Nothing would initially change at home. Bob would no longer come to the house or even bother with Miriam and me. I'm not sure what would happen to Miriam. I might have to take care of myself.

I realized that I've been taking care of myself since I was four.

I began crying. I didn't want her to be gone. I wanted to go home and hear her annoying voice call me her _baby sister_. I wanted her to trap me into an overly aggressive hug and then to pat me on the head. I didn't want to see her lying in bed with this sad smile on her face.

When I was nine she was not a real person. She was the goddess of all that was good and pure. At least that's how I perceived it. Then, after the sickness came, she became a real person. She was not just Olga; she was a _real_ person. I could talk to her. Worst of all I could love her.

I began crying harder.

I wanted to go home and see her there, standing at the door her large smile on her face.

I wanted _my_ sister to be _alive_.

I could feel my chest constrict and I began coughing. I leaned against the wall and continued to cough and sob at the same time.

She was _never_ coming back.

(_They tell you when someone you love dies you mourn for the rest of your life. They never tell you how you find yourself living to forgive yourself for not wanting to mourn_.)

I walked back to his room and sat on his bed. I had the towel around my head as I stared into space. I had calmed myself down enough to seem like a functioning human being.

"I bought some orange juice and toast." I looked to see Arnold with a tray an overly large smile plastered on his face.

"I'm not hungry." I said as I watched him move from the doorway to his desk.

"You have to eat Helga. All you have is alcohol in your system." And a sickness, I added for him.

"Arnold… please… I'm not hungry." I could feel my face harden as the tears rimmed my eyes.

"What happened?" He asked coming up and sitting next to me.

I looked at him, tears burning my eyes. And I just fell into him.

He wrapped his arms around my back and moved the towel off my head. I could feel my wet hair falling over my back. He began stroking my head as I cried into his chest.

"They got a divorce." I heard my voice through the sobs. "When I turned thirteen. He left and they got divorced. He remarried two years ago."

I began crying harder. Arnold was trying to sooth me with soft words and warm arms.

"She's dead." And that's what broke the camel's back. I had finally said it. Out loud. To someone beside myself. "Olga's dead. She's never coming back."

I didn't go into details until much later. I was too emotionally broken to even fathom telling him more then that.

I remember he didn't push, not once. All he did was hold me as I cried myself into a broken abyss.

That's where I find myself, every time, my broken abyss.

Maybe that's where she is.

__

Immortal in a broken abyss.


	6. Known as Dark Salvation

**__**

READ PLEASE!!!! (Everyone falls over) She UPDATED twice in one DAY! Oh my god! Call the head lines!… I know… I know… what the hell am I taking to put up TWO updates in one day. A lot, let me tell you. This chapter is, in my humble opinion, the most emotional escapade of a chapter. It's def not as long as the others are, but the emotional energy is def higher. I tried to write more words rather then blunt statements. But of course my blunt statements are in the story. If you are not crying by the end of this, at least slightly tearing up… I give up (that's such a lie it's not funny). This is in NO WAY the last chapter. No… not at all. It is simply a transition chapter. A pretty damn good transition chapter… but a transition chapter none the less. Next chapter will be more centered on the ailment (illness). It should be out by Wednesday and/or Thursday. DEF review for this chapter. PLEASE review for this chapter I want as much humanly feedback as possible. I won't pull a "I want ten review to update" thing, but I'm begging you PLEASE review this chapter. I hope you enjoy ((The poem that's in there somewhere (it's the summary) is my own poem or at least a verse from one of my poems.)) Thanks!!

(_The hardest thing to do is let go. It's not the first meeting or the first hello. It's not the first I love you and not the first hug. It's being, at the end of the day, able to let go_.)

It had rained all morning. It had finally stopped before the service, leaving the sky gray and dreary. It was simply breath taking in my opinion. The scents of rain clouded over my mind delaying reality from taking over. It's amazing how the simplest of details, like the scent of rain, can mean so much in ten years from now. Ten years almost seems forever and a day away. It's not, however.

My hair, straight and smooth, blew against the breeze that had formed during the rain. I was wearing black pants, a black turtleneck, black boots, and her white petty coat. It had been a gift from our grandfather when she was sixteen. It went to her knees and sparkled ever so slightly in the sun. It was somewhat big on me, falling to my knees but flaring around my waist. It fitted her to a "T" when she had gotten it. I had left it open because I wasn't cold. I had my black gloves on and a pair of silver earrings. I was the only person wearing anything white. She wouldn't have had it any other way.

I felt something slip into my hand. I looked down to see a gloved hand holding my hand gently. I looked up and looked at the bottomless big green eyes of _the obsession_. He was wearing a black suit with a black over coat. He had on a white shirt but it was barely visible under his heavy jacket and wool scarf. His hair was combed back and yet it still seemed untamed. I felt myself lean in closer to him.

I allowed my eyes to move around staring at the familiar and the nameless faces. My eyes landed on Phoebe who stood on the other side of the coffin. She was in a black dress with a black jacket. Gerald's arm was protectively around her shoulders. Our eyes met and I could tell she had been crying. I'm not sure if she was mad at me for not telling her or mad at the world for making me not want to tell her. Either way I hope she was mad at me, that she secretly planned to kill me when this was all over. She wouldn't kill me herself. Maybe hire someone.

__

A hitman is top of my list, I could hear her think. We have ESP.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. For a split second I hoped with all my heart it was Bob. That he would have his gruff smile on his face and an arm wrapped around Miriam. She would have her hand in mine and an arm around Olga, who was smiling her abrasive (yet perfect) smile. I hoped that I would see a _family_.

I gave a sad smile to Miles who was looking at me with compassion in his eyes. They had let me stay at the boarding house while Miriam and Bob made plans for the funeral. Trust me, Miriam and Bob would not have had time to deal with me. I needed someone to deal with me. I needed to be reminded I was still alive. Not that I wanted to be alive. But I needed to be reminded.

I noticed Stella standing next to my mother, an arm around her shoulder, whispering calm words to her. Miriam wasn't sure who Stella was, but she wasn't about to turn her away. Miriam needed someone. Bob was standing on the opposite side of the coffin. His arm was around Cynthia who was holding their two-year-old son, Robert. They were clad in black. I felt that there was false mourning among Cynthia and Bob. Or maybe just Cynthia. But I felt the need to go over and hurt her. I wanted to make her feel as bad as I did. How dare anyone come here and not mourn sincerely.

I closed my eyes and reopened them as they began lowering the coffin. I could feel the tears rolling down my face as I watched everyone bow their heads as the priest said a closing prayer.

I was the only one who had not bowed their heads. I stand by my assumption she wouldn't have had it any other way.

As I watched them lower the casket I thought of a movie I had once seen. I couldn't remember the title or even the actors who were in it. Just one of the ending scenes. The main character, Frank, maybe that was his name, he was standing as they slowly lowered his wife's coffin into the hole. They had been in love for only a few months but they were in love. He flew at her coffin and held it. They had to stop lowering it. He was crying hysterically screaming at the top of his lungs she wasn't gone, she was still alive. He swore he couldn't live with out her. I think her name was Amber or Ember, it was pretty, but it doesn't matter. It took four grown men (one his father and another his father in law) to pull him off of the coffin. His father then swept him into a large hug and let him sob into his _Prada_, twenty thousand-dollar jacket. I felt this was real love. On both Frank's part and his father's part.

I felt a gentle squeeze on my hand. I didn't look up at him but simply squeezed back. If I were to fly at the casket it would probably take either Arnold or Gerald to pry me off. Of course if I flew at the casket I might be shot at on cue. I never trusted Bob to handle arrangements. He has a violent side about him.

I wanted to fall apart. Right here, right now, at my sister's funeral, in front of almost ever living citizen of the city. Of course this is premature and ridiculous. So of course my next notion was how I wanted everyone to leave so I could have a break down, right here, right now.

It wasn't longer before people began to dispatch. They would all be going to Bob's manor on the Upper East Side of the city. There would be food. Phoebe motioned she would see me there and Miriam told me that Miles and Stella would be taking her.

It took ten minutes for everyone to get into their cars and begin the twenty-minute drive to Bob's house. There was a lone limo waiting for me about thirty feet from her grave. It was just her, Arnold, and me.

I gently let go of his hand and walked over to the open hole. Her ivory casket looked shiny and untouched as it lay in the six-foot hole. I imagined her wearing the blue dress Bob had bought her. How she looked like a porcelain doll at the wake yesterday. How she looked almost alive with the soft smile on her face and the flower in her hands. I was losing composure quickly.

I gently kneeled down and looked at her head stone.

__

Olga Pataki, loving daughter, sister, and woman. She shall remain forever in our hearts. Her birthday and death day was engraved delicately into the marble headpiece.

I looked down at the casket, wiping tears from my cold face. I had so much to say so much to just tell her. This would have ruined the moment I thought.

"I'm so sorry." I heard my voice through the bitterness of winter. "I wish I had been there. I wish I could have made you feel better. I wish you hadn't died." A sob escaped my lips. I wanted to stand up and turn away. But I couldn't. "I miss you so much. I know I never said it, and I was such a brat, but I love you. I always have, big sister."

Sobs took over my entire body. I never realized what she meant to me. I never realized how much a person she had been to me. Had I known I would have said it sooner. I would have done _something_. I wanted to tell her that I would always be here for her. To wait for me, I was coming soon. I wanted to tell her that I would take care of mom for her and that I make sure dad ate healthy more often. I wanted to fall into the hole and lye next to her. I wanted to be with her, wherever she was.

I felt a pair of strong arms pull me up and then pull me towards him. I sobbed into his jacket. The material was somewhat scratchy. I didn't care.

I wanted to be with her. I didn't want her to be with me; she was in a better place now. I would never want her to return to this world, not when she is tasting paradise. She deserves paradise.

I didn't want to leave her here alone. In a graveyard under a weeping willow. How befitting I thought. Someone to always weep for her. Maybe I should trust Bob with the arrangements.

Nothing will have ever been too good for her.

(_She looked at me with her cat like eyes and a drag of her cigarette and motioned with her hand around the room. "This is as good as it gets baby."_)

I sat at the pier staring into the half-frozen water. The reception, if you will, was stuffy and made me yearn to die faster. I had only stayed for an hour or so. Arnold had insisted that I hang out with him but I needed to be by myself. I wanted to be by myself.

I had gone home and changed into a pair of jeans and a thin long sleeved shirt. My hair was still down and blew in the chilling breeze. I was comfortable like this. Just being myself.

I moved my eyes around the pier. There wasn't a soul in sight. That's why it had been so quiet. That's why I could here the water whispering chants of loneliness to the sky.

I watched as the water moved. I wasn't sure how or why it was moving, but it was. I wish I were moving or feeling. I wish I could just pretend to be human. Just for a moment.

My lips curled as I thought of a poem I had written a few years ago. I tried to continue writing but as my life grew dark so did my writings. Finally it was all about self hate and death and I had to place down the pen and pick up my camera.

I slowly began reciting the short poem as I stared into the crystal waters. "When the final curtain falls; watch it fall, watch it fall; they'll think you hadn't been there; that you hadn't been there at all; and you'll laugh, yes you'll laugh; as you bang your head against the wall."

It had absolutely nothing to do with the water or the pier. But it seemed significant, like a prayer, a lullaby even. I felt tears well up in my eyes.

What was left for me here?

I could almost see her on the water, laughing as she danced graceful on the surface of the lake. She was so beautiful. They said, at the reception (if you will), that I looked like her. I don't understand how this could be. Granted, _granted_, I had some where along the line changed in my appearance. I'll go, as far as, to say I might be even _pretty_. But I did not look like Olga. She was poised and beautiful. I am pale and thin. I look sickly and weak. She was Ms. Sunshine. Olga was the epitome of beauty. I _do not_ look like Olga. This is an insult to her. And Bob as well, because he boldly told whoever had said it that no one, _no one_, looks like Olga.

I truly hope he burns in hell.

I sighed. She was never coming back. Ever. She was now a memory in my chaotic head. I wondered how long she would survive there. Inside my head. I hope longer then I'm giving her memory credit for. She's not the Barbwire Ballerina. She fell. She _fell_. She had never been immortal in my mind. Maybe she should have been.

I drew my knees to my chest as the tears began falling down my face. Maybe this is how it was suppose to end. I had been standing still for so long, watching everyone walk by. Maybe this is my light at the end of the tunnel.

I had finally lost it I thought. Or maybe I never had it I contradicted myself. I wanted to surrender. To anything, something, just to get it over with. I was too far down to think of anything other then what I had lost. In my mind there was no longer Miriam, Bob, Phoebe, Gerald, or even Arnold. All that was left was Olga. Who no matter what, deep down, loved me for everything I was and thought of me as worth something. I was too far into the dark to see the _good_ light.

I wanted freedom. I had been a prisoner in my mind for too long. Now that she was free. I could be free.

I looked at the water as it moved in tiny waves. I stood up and dusted off my jeans. I moved closer to the edge of the pier, raising my arms above my head.

Did you know that they (who ever they are) call suicide a dark salvation?

It's almost ironic.

The cold water hit my face and ran through my hair. It slid over my body as I swam towards the bottom. I no longer felt numb. I felt reborn, almost alive. I could feel again. I felt like a _real_ person. Some one who could feel, love, hate, anything, and everything. I _was_ a _real_ person. I wasn't standing still anymore. I was free.

Then, like a dream, I felt myself being pulled up. I felt my body move to the top of the water. I was being pulled to the shoreline at the bottom of the pier.

"What the _hell_ are you thinking?" I heard a voice screaming at me. Maybe it wasn't screaming. Maybe it only sounded like screaming.

The cold air hit my body harshly as I began to shiver. He gently picked me up and half ran back on to the pier wear his jacket, suit jacket, and shoes laid quietly. He placed me down and wrapped the suit jacket and then his regular jacket around me.

"Are you out of you mind?" I stared at him. Those big green eyes were filled with tears. He looked as if he was about to begin sobbing an ocean of tears. "Do you know what you were doing? Do you know what could have happened to you?"

I reached out gently and touched his face. He was soaking wet but he didn't care. He was too busy scolding me. His hair was extremely soft. He felt like home. At least what home should have felt like.

However the darkness began clouding over my mind again. I no longer felt like home. I felt angry. I looked at him and in a fury began hitting his chest. I began crying as I did it. Sobbing every time my hand hit him. It wasn't hurting him because he seemed more confused then in pain.

"Why?" I shouted, hitting him as I sobbed into unknown territory. I was too close to have lost it. I was almost free. "Why couldn't you just let me stay there? Why did you have to safe me? Why do you always have to safe me? I wanted to die! I want to die! I want to be free. Let me be free." I stopped hitting him and brought my hands up to my face.

His arms wrapped around me. I sobbed in to my hands.

"Let me be free. I need to be free." I was shaking with sobs. He didn't care. His grip on me only tightened. "Why? Why?"

He pulled me away from him and gently moved my hands from my face. "You'll never be free like that." He said. "Never."

I began crying harder. "I want it to end. Please make it end. Please." I grabbed on to his shirt. It was wet. I was pleading with him. Begging him to safe me.

"I wish I could." This made me sob harder.

I wanted to free. I wanted to be with her. She had no right to leave me here alone.

"You're not alone." I heard him say, I realized I was no longer thinking, I was talking. I was talking to him.

"I am alone." I sobbed, burying my face into his shirt.

"Helga!" He pulled me away roughly and stared at him. He was crying too. He had been crying with me all along. "You are not alone. I'm here for you. I'm not leaving you."

"I'm leaving you!" I screamed. My throat began to ache from the crying and the screaming and the various words that were pouring from my lips. "I'm leaving you! I'm dying! Just like her! I'm sick!" I kept shouting until it all formed into a sea of sobs.

"What?" I looked at him, tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I'm dying." I said, calmer. "Just like her."

This intensified the stream of tears rolling down his face.

"You don't know that." I looked at him as I froze. I gently moved my face closer to his and kissed him. It was gentle, tender almost. He returned it with a hard passion.

As I pulled away I looked in his deep green eyes. I believe he began crying harder.

"I do know that." I said. I then leaned my head against his chest as I felt him continue to cry. I was numb again. I just wanted to be free.

I just wanted my dark salvation.


	7. I'll be ok

****

I left this amazing Author's Note at the end of the story... then I deleted it... by accident... it was fairly long... I can not tell you what was said or what I wrote... for this I might have to begin sobbing into my hands for... Other then this is not the last chapter, I should have the last one up by Sunday the lastest... and that their will be a HUGE author's note in the next chapter, thanking and commenting to all those who reviewed :) If you guys had any questions reguarding anything in this story please leave it in the review and the ending Author's note in the last chapter I will clear everything up and such (hopefully). I tried to incorporate people's opinions/comments/ideas/predictions in the story and I hope I did not disappoint :/ Well, anyway, R&R, I hope you enjoyed! And THANK YOU again :)

(_The worst part is trying to figure out if I want the happy ending or the unhappy ending_.)

I waited in the small doctor's office. The walls were painted a soothing blue with white carpets. The walls had framed degrees, posters of Dr. Phil, comic strips about doctors, and various pictures of Dr. Brooke with friends and family. There was a large mahogany desk with an over stuffed leather chair. I was in one of the smaller leather chairs on the opposite side of the desk staring around the room as the walls slowly enclosed on me.

It had been two weeks since the funeral. Since the _incident_. As I had earlier suggested, things would not initially change, yes well, that's just a false truth. Not only did things "change" they went into another dimension. Miriam had been locked in her bedroom since the funeral. She only came out to get water and fruit. I hadn't even seen her since that Sunday (the funeral). I only knew she came out because things (like the water and fruit) were missing from the kitchen.

This was not the only thing to have "changed". Bob wrote a very nice, excuse me, Bob's Lawyer wrote a very nice letter to Miriam about how since Olga was dead, so were we. He would no longer be supporting us. We have depended on him for too long. Since I am almost of legal age there's no real reason to keep sending money. Of course, being almost legal age, I called Bob, excuse me, Bob's lawyer and left a very sweet message.

__

Fuck you.

I had felt much better after saying this and found myself somewhat feeling of legal age. In reality when I turn legal age I'm suing Bob for everything he's worth. I'll win. I'll win because I have something Bob's lawyer does not. I have the ability to begin sobbing and crying into my hands, sobbing of suicide and abuse. Arnold assured me that I was being dramatic. I've accepted this. I don't care if I am being dramatic, but I've accepted it.

Speaking of Arnold. Ever since that day, at the lake, he's been attached to me at the hip. I do truly believe that he has spies watching me in all my classes and whenever he can't be with me. Not that I completely minded of course. It felt nice to have him around. I figured I was getting use to him. _Damn_.

His project for the past two weeks (besides keeping my mind busy) was shuffling me from doctor to doctor. I only agreed after he promised he wouldn't tell his mom or my mom. Of course, my foresight failing me, I forgot to include his father in this arrangement. So, his father was the one driving us to all these appointments and test. And were there ever so many tests. Blood, fluid, cell, you name it, and I had to take it. I truly believe all nurses enjoy stabbing needles into people.

Arnold's doctor, Robert Brooke, had called my cell earlier today and said that he had all my tests in and would like to see me. Of course I rushed right over. It was Saturday and other then I quit my job (go figure) I had nothing planned or even better to do. I didn't call Arnold though. I wanted this information to be given to me while I was alone. Just in case it was as bad as I had figured it to be.

The door opened and I looked over. I was finally feeling what I was suppose to be feeling at the time I was suppose to feel it. _Fear_.

"Hello Ms Pataki." He smiled and I nodded. "Well before we discuss your results I actually wanted to ask you some questions."

Oh great.

"Of course." I smiled politely.

"How much sleep do you get?" He placed on his thin rimmed glasses and looked down at the folder that was now sitting on his desk.

"Three or four hours I guess." I shrugged. I knew I couldn't lie to him. Doctors know when you are lying; they hold your folder in their hands.

"How much do you eat?"

"A meal, two meals maybe." None of this is my fault; it's been a hard life.

"I see." He said looking at the papers and making small marks as his eyes moved up and down the pages. "Helga." He looked up and sighed. "You know that you live a very unhealthy life."

Really now?

"Yes sir." I nodded. This is the part where he takes out the tissue box and tells me I only have a few months to live.

"Luckily we caught this before it could do some serious damage." He said slightly more upbeat.

I stared at him confused. I was coughing blood, how is this not serious?

"Excuse me?"

"You are very lucky Helga. It could have been worse."

What the _hell_?

"What do you mean? How much longer do I have?"

"For what?"

"Till I die!"

"Well, I'm no fortune teller but I guess seventy or eighty more years. At least medically." He shrugged.

Now to normal people this seems to be comforting. It's something they _want_ to hear. Now I am not normal. I have never _been_ normal. This was illogical.

"No!" I said loudly. "I'm dying!"

He looked at me as I named off random symptoms that I had dealt with for the past month.

"I'm suppose to die! Like _her_!" I finished my rant off glaring at him as he stared at me with wide eyes.

"Her? Olga? Helga… you're not dying. You have a lower leveled pneumonia. A harsh case indeed but curable none-the-less." I stared at him.

"What?"

"I'll admit that you probably caught the germ from Olga. But with your living habits you developed a weakness to the virus." He began writing something down. "It's a harsh case but it's no real threat to you."

No, this is not how this works. I'm suppose to die. I'm suppose to die like _her_. I'm suppose to get a large funeral, with an ivory casket, and be buried under a weeping willow. Someone to always weep for me. This _doctor_ is wrong.

"Are you joking?" He looked up and cocked his eyebrow.

"You sound as if you want to die." I opened my mouth but shut it quickly. It would be bad to deny this or to tell him that I, indeed, did want to die. At least I had been ready to die.

"I just… I thought I had her sickness." I sighed and closed my eyes.

Life is unfair. I was the one who _deserved_ the sickness. I should have been in that casket, not her. She had so much to live for. What the hell would I accomplish?

"Here." I looked at him and took the pink slip of paper he had given me. "The directions are on the bottles. I gave you three different medications. Two of them should be taken every day, preferably as the directions suggest. The third is a syrup that every time you begin a coughing fit, drink a tablespoon. I'll see you in one week."

He smiled and folded his hands on the desk and looked at me.

"I'm going to be ok?" I asked. I wanted to cry. I'm not sure if it was out of goodness or because I somehow cheated death while my sister laid six feet under.

"If you take the medication AND begin adjusting your life habits. I think you'll be as good as new before you know it."

__

As good as new. How clichéd.

"Ok." I gave a small smile. What I really want to do was fall on the ground kicking and screaming, flailing my arms about, protesting life and how it always seems to screw with my head.

"You need to get at least eight hours of sleep and I want no more of this one or two meals a day. I demand that you have three meals with a small nutritious snack in-between. Try and stay away from junk foods and sodas."

I nodded and stood up. I was slightly shaking. Whenever I think I have the world figured out. That I have my life figured out. People like Dr. Brooke go and screw it up for me. _Hell_, I go and screw it up for me.

"Thank you." I smiled. "I'll go make an appointment for next week."

"Alrighty Helga." He smiled. "Say hello to Arnold for me."

Oh right, Arnold, he might want to know about how I'm not going to die any time soon.

"No problem." I smiled and then shut the door.

I felt as if I still had miles until I reached the end of the tunnel.

I seem to have a lifetime until I finally get to the end.

__

Lucky me.

(_Every time you hold me, I shiver slightly. I'm not use to your affection, your devotion to me. And I might never get over the fact that I look over my shoulder and your not that far behind. But I know I like it. I know I love you_.)

I gently walked into his room. It was eerie how this room was slowly becoming my home. I couldn't bear staying in _that_ house sometimes. Miriam was in shambles and she wouldn't let me help. She wouldn't let me in to help.

I had begun staying in his room every other night or so. The first few nights he slept on the couch. However this changed to him sleeping on the bed next to me. I felt safe when he was around. I don't know why.

He was currently out cold on his bed. I couldn't blame him. I was causing the kid enough stress to make him sleep during classes.

He looked so peaceful. I gently moved my hand to his face. He was warm and his skin was so soft. I gently pushed some hair off of his face, allowing my fingers to entwine with the soft locks of blonde. I loved playing with his hair. Just allowing my fingers to comb through it. It was a small perk to being his girl— his friend.

The idea seemed almost silly. We were _not_ a couple. At least not publicly. When we were together, _alone_, it was easier. I could get lost in his eyes and be almost happy. However, when it came to the real world, I would do no such thing. I refused any type of affections he had to give while we were in the eyes of the rest of the world. I knew this upset him, Arnold is an extremely affectionate person. It's just who he is. Maybe in private I was more affectionate and dare I say _loving_, but publicly I wasn't strong enough to show that side of myself.

I like to think he understood that.

He doesn't though.

I felt something slid along my thighs and then come to a rest at my waist. I was sitting at the edge of his bed and looked down to see his arm resting on my thighs and his hand gently sitting on my waist, just above my jeans.

"Hey." He smiled softly. His eyes were barely open, I knew he was happy I was there though.

"Hey." I felt my own lips move towards a smile.

"How are you?" He asked, his voice full of sleep.

I don't think I will ever love someone as much as I love him. I've known him since I was four. You don't love a person like you love the boy who complimented your pink bow in preschool, you just don't. I had realized that my knight in shining armor had held this position since preschool. I never want to lose him.

"I'm ok. I saw Dr. Brooke today." This seemed to perk him up.

"How did it go?" He sat up quickly and wrapped his other arm around me. I focused my eyes on his hair where my fingers were still laced.

"I'm going to be fine." I gave a sad sort of smile (at least this is how he says it when he recalls the day).

His eyes sparkled as his whole face lit up. "You're not going to die?"

"Nope." I smiled and looked at him. I didn't react fast enough because in a heartbeat his lips were on mine.

The kiss lasted only a few seconds but his smile made up for it.

"This is amazing! I told you you'd be ok!" I continued to smile my "sad" smile and just stare at him.

I felt like crying. I hadn't cried in a while, not since the day at the pier. Miriam cried everyday, every night. Was I suppose to cry as well? Was I doing something wrong? I flew into a relationship (sort of) mere hours after my sister's funeral. What the hell is wrong with me? And now I'm "celebrating" (at least Arnold is) that I'm not dying. Why wasn't she curable? Why do I have to go on with my life while her's ended so soon? Why couldn't I be happy? I hadn't been happy in so long.

I gently felt my head lean against his chest. I wanted it to end. I know I wanted it to end. Whether it be the sorrow, the guilt, the mourning, or my life, I wanted it to end.

"Helga?" I closed my eyes as my arms encircled his waist. It's times like these where I wish I was stronger. That, maybe, I could stand on my own two feet without needing to fall apart in his arms. I could die in his arms.

"I'll be fine." I said as I looked up at him. He opened his mouth but I couldn't bare another speech, another lecture on how it would be or was ok.

I quickly captured his lips with mine pushing him back down on the bed. He now laid under me as I intensified the kiss.

I felt his hands go under my sweatshirt as my own hands made their way to his hair. Gently pulling it as he forced more emotion into an already passionate kiss.

It might have been illogical but it was good enough for me.

Come Monday I would once again have to pull away from his arm around my waist or dodge his kisses on my neck. Sometimes I hate myself for not being able to allow the rest of the world to see me like this. At least I was safe like this. No one could hurt me. Other then Arnold of course.

As I felt his hand move along my tank top, up and down my spine, I had reassurance he would never purposely hurt me.

Of course unconsciously was whole different ball game.

(_Memories are sometimes hardest when you relive them. Like putting an album in a box and then placing the box in the attic. You know it's there, but you can't get to it. Sort of like a memory in your head_.)

I walked into my house and vaguely noticed that it was slightly collecting dust. I decided that I would clean tomorrow.

I slowly walked up the stairs. I told Arnold that I would see him tomorrow, that I really wanted to go home. This of course was a lie, but I just felt emotionally unworthy to be with him right now.

I've actually had people tell me that at sixteen I had no idea what _real_ love was. As Arnold had no idea what _real_ love was. And I listen to their reasons and their whole view of the situation. Once they finish I shrug and move on with the story. They never seem to understand that at the age of sixteen, at the age of twenty, at the age of thirty, I would _never_ know what **true** love was. I had never experienced it expect for Arnold. My family (of course not counting Olga) had not taught me what **true** love was. What people don't seem to realize is that since I was four, _four_, Arnold had always been like this little guardian angel of sorts. He would constantly show me the errors of my ways and try to _save_ me on a number of occasions. The boy had literally been my _obsession_ for twelve years. Not only was he my salvation but I was his "duty". I never asked for him to follow me, to keep tabs on me, or to love me back. I've always loved him, but I never asked him to return these emotions. So yes, at sixteen one might not know what **true** love is, but I'll be damned if I hadn't experienced it at the age of sixteen, at the age of _four_.

As I neared my room I noticed that Olga's door was open. Thinking this a mistake of some higher power I went to close it. I was surprised to see my mother sitting on the middle of the floor, tears rolling down her face, and putting books in a box. She looked up and quickly turned her face wiping away the tears that had ran down her face.

"Hey dear. Did you have fun at Arnold's? What a sweet boy." Her voice was full of tears and unspoken emotion.

I gently moved into the room and stood over her looking at the various boxes and items that were now occupying _her_ room.

"What are you doing?" I asked softly.

"Oh this?" She looked around, still trying to compose herself. "I'm just cleaning up a bit. I thought we could send some of these things to the Salvation Army, you can take anything you like."

I looked down at her and slowly realized this was part of the process.

Letting go and cleaning up.

"Do you want some help?" I asked, slowly sitting down next to her.

"I'd love some." She was smiling through the tears. I felt the need to begin sobbing hysterically. I, however, suppressed this emotion. "She kept so many things. You'd think she'd be able to throw _something_ away."

I nodded but didn't say anything. Saying something meant something. I wasn't ready to mean anything.

I looked over at my mother and I saw her, for what seemed like the first time in years. Her hair was swept into a clip, pulling the strands of hair off her delicate face. She was starting to get crows feet and some wrinkles on her forehead. She was slowly aging, right in front of my eyes. I wanted to hold on to this moment forever. But forever didn't seem so long at this point. It didn't seem long at all.

I found it ironic. Most parents keep their child's room as a shrine after they have "left". Miriam wanted it to be packed away and taken away. It almost seemed in bad taste. But I couldn't blame her. I couldn't look her in the eye and say that this was a bad idea. I couldn't tell her that she was probably going out of her mind. I couldn't tell her because it wasn't true. Miriam had been known to be neglectful, irresponsible, and ditzy. But as I looked at her, as I _saw_ her, I couldn't see anything wrong. She was acting stronger then I could ever act (or be for that matter). She was acting almost like a real person. She _was_ a real person.

"You think it's to soon." She said it with an air of a comment rather then a question. I looked at her.

"Is it?" She shook her head. It had only been two weeks I thought.

Slowly, however, it hit me. Olga had been _dead_ for four years. Only now she was _truly_ gone. I figured out in those few moments, sitting with my mother, just looking at her, that we had been mourning for four long years. Every night we had sleepless nights with tear stains on our pillows. We didn't eat or even communicate outside of the house. We had mourned since we found out about the sickness. Maybe we had done our time.

Maybe I wasn't as selfish as I was giving myself credit for.

"I love you." I looked back at Miriam, my eyes wide and unsure. "I just, I want you to know that. I love you. I'm sorry that I couldn't have been a better mother to you."

"It's ok." I heard myself reply. "We're ok."

I leaned over and gently hugged her; almost afraid she'd break if I held her too tightly.

"I love you too." I heard myself speak through her red sweater, the scent of her shampoo filling my senses. Maybe I wasn't four anymore, but I still needed her. I feel as if I'll always need her.

Let's face it I'm not _normal_. Maybe with her here and Arnold, one day I would be normal.

Who knows?


	8. Addiction

****

I'm such a liar. This obviously is not the last chapter. I was having such a romance mood last night (usually I simply grab a box of chocolate and watch a movie, preferably sad, and cry into my hands.) However I figured out that there was too much pent up emotion with _me_ and I decided to go in search of a new type of romance. Of course logically that means staying up half the night and writing a useless chapter to your story. What _normal_ person wouldn't do that? Think of this as a _further_ look into Helga as a person and Arnold and Helga as a relationship. Some of the minor details (and it's always the minor details) are little aspects into my own life. Romance and otherwise noted. I guess, who knows at this point, next chapter might be the last. Anyone mind if the story continues a few more chapters? I tried, so very hard, to portray Helga's more sensitive and antisocial personality. No, she not gothic, she doesn't purposely try to outcast herself, it's what happens to certain people in high school. I guess you get a little inside of Arnold's head as well. Next chapter will be a little more… life-centric, where as this is romance centric. I'll prob have the next chapter up tomorrow… we'll see if it's the final one or not ::shrugs:: I think they're might be two chapters… I'll plan it out at work (freakin' eight hours in a deserted store, my god!). I hope you enjoy :) I tried… R&R And def look forward to the next chapter tomorrow (there goes my whole I'll have it done by November theory). :-)

(_I love it when you stare. How your smile suggests that you don't care. I love how you make me feel free. Just watching you, watch me_.)

I laid in bed staring at the ceiling. There was two more weeks of school before our summer vacation. Stella and Miles had invited Miriam and myself to their annual beach vacation. I remember smiling when Miriam said she be delighted to go.

It had been about three months since the _incident_. Things were staring to get better. Whether they continued to go like that one will never know. I personally was healthier then I had been three months ago. I was now at a "healthy" weight and got more then three hours sleep at night (I'm sure the sleeping pills had _nothing_ to do with it). I was still slightly pale but it was normal for "cases" like mine. I still felt guilty for cheating death while my sister could no longer feel the sun on her face. Life is screwy like that.

Miriam was doing pretty well herself, considering what she had been through. She begun to see a therapist and even got herself a "real" job. She kept herself busy enough not to bring up past memories but not as busy where she forgot she still had one daughter.

I guess life has a funny way of taking away the light and slowly giving you a new one.

I had decided that I was never going to get to sleep. Last night I had stayed up all night (as well) and didn't go to school. I hadn't seen or heard from Arnold all day. He was my new addiction. I couldn't go very long with out a hit of him. It's sickening. The worst part of it all was I was still backing off from the public's eyes. I knew it was driving him up the wall. The boy, on many occasions, has tried to put his arm around my waist, kiss me, hold my hand, or try and rub the base of my spine. And being the nonfunctioning normal person of the duet, I pulled away every time. I believe this sends him mixed emotions. I was afraid of losing him. I was going to have to change.

Gah. It's always the antisocial one of the group to have to change. For once I'd like to see Mr. Sunshine frown and sit in a dark corner of the room. I think Mr. Sunshine might die if he had to sit in the dark. I personally like the dark. I'm going off on a tangent, excuse me.

I stood up and looked at the alarm clock. It was one in the morning. I rolled my head back and looked at the ceiling, mumbling obscenities. What is the probability the love of my life is up right now?

Not a good probability.

I was wearing a pair of his boxers and one of my tank tops. I found a pair of sweat pants (I still can't tell if it's his or mine) and then slowly sneaked out of my house through my front door. It doesn't seem like sneaking out but it was.

I knew the neighborhood well enough to know that I was probably safer at night then during the day.

It took about ten minutes, in my sweat pants, tank top, and pink slippers, to get to his house. Like I did almost every other night I slowly began to climb the fire escape. I was stealth like a cat. At least I'd like to think I was stealth like a cat, I try to ignore the details on how I slip on the fourth step of the ladder towards his bedroom window. Every time too. You'd think I learn by now.

I eased open the window and slowly climbed in. As usual Simon was waiting a few feet from the window to be given a short pat on the head and "good boy." I ushered him out of the room and looked to see the _addiction_ sleeping under his covers, lightly snoring. He might never know how I _truly_ feel for him. I believe calling him my drug could only worsen the relationship.

I gently moved so that I sat at the edge of the bed. I was slightly curious to find out why he hadn't come over or called to make sure I was ok. Usually if I skip a day of school the boy is at my house five minutes after the last bell rings. I had a sinking feeling that his sudden disposition on our non-relationship relationship was my fault.

I looked down at him and smiled softly. He looked like… well he looked like Arnold. But he was my Arnold. I slowly began leaving a trail of kisses along his jaw line, finally landing on his lips. It took a few seconds but before I knew it he was kissing me back with as much passion as I had started with. I pulled away, after figuring out I had to breathe, and looked at him.

He opened his right eye first and then closed it. Then after a second or two he opened both eyes in two tiny slits. I could tell that I had wakened him from a deep sleep. Probably a good dream as well.

"What time is it?" I _love_ the way his voice sounds after he wakes up. It's gruff and heavy. It's comforting in some ideal way.

"About one thirty." I felt myself shrug even though I was well aware he was barely coherent.

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I couldn't."

He looked at me before closing his eyes and then sliding closer to the bookshelf and giving me room to lay down. I felt his arms encircle me as I laid next to him. He was so warm; his entire body was just amazing. He kissed the side of my face and then my forehead, leaning his forehead against the side of my head. While he slept on his side I tended to enjoy sleeping on my back. I felt his breath become rhythmic against my neck.

"I love you." I whispered. He began snoring slightly, I smiled.

I was so happy tomorrow was Saturday.

(_Even if the sun doesn't rise, I'll still see your face; I'll still be kept in your warm embrace_.)

I woke up to something or someone leaving tiny kisses along my face. I opened my eyes and was met with the _addiction's_ tender green orbs of comfort, staring at me.

"What time is it?" I asked, closing my eyes and leaning closer into him.

"Six."

"Why are you waking me up?" I heard the roughness in my voice. I was having way too good of a dream to have been woken up.

I suddenly felt two soft lips capture mine. I could feel him shift his weight so that he was now slightly over me, his hands moving along the sides of my body. His lips moved off of mine and began moving along my cheek, down my face, and then down my neck. I moaned slightly.

I _loathe_ him.

"That's why." He said as his kisses trailed back up to my lips. We never went farther then trailing kisses on each other's neck. We weren't ready for anything further then that. Ok, that's a lie, I wasn't _emotionally_ or _mentally_ ready for that _yet_. I still need help in both departments.

I felt cold as he pulled himself off of me and then leaned against his pillow, staring at me.

"What?" I asked, looking back at his soft features.

"Nothing." He leaned in a bit and kissed me softly.

"Why didn't you come over yesterday?" I moved myself so that my head could lean against his chest and my arms could encircle around him. I needed to hold him.

"I had practice and then that tutoring program." Right. I forgot he had a life outside of me. I need to get a life outside of him. He kissed the top of my head. Never mind, I need to stay with my life inside of him.

"Who did you have to tutor this time?" Every month he gets a new "hopeless" student who needs to pick up their grades. I was surprised anyone still had time to recover before school ended. Must have been some hell of a hopeless student.

"Lila." He said it somewhat shakily, as if I was going to begin screaming at him and then crying about how he was leaving me. I planned on doing both of these once I was at home, in the comfort of my bedroom. Now, however, was a time to be mature.

"That's _nice_." I had to clench my teeth.

"Nothing happened, she just needs help with her final paper in English."

"That's _nice_." I said, I then figured out that I had said that before, in the exact same tone.

"Helga."

"You're allowed to tutor her." I rolled over and looked at his room. I felt his arm snake around my waist as he gently began kissing my neck. "Stop."

He stopped the kissing but tightened his grip on my waist. I felt the need to cry, but I wasn't sure why. I had a tendency to be over jealous. Yes, I know this. Maybe it's because it's Lila. Why did it have to be Lila? Anyone but Lila.

"Maybe if you would make _us_ official, you wouldn't be so insecure." I closed my eyes tightly as his words rang inside my head.

Why could he not understand that by letting the public _see_ me I was would be losing something? I was so use to being antisocial. Having a boyfriend gave you status in our school. With status people begin talking to you. Arnold is not an unpopular guy. I would have to be _included_ in all social events. Why should I be punished? My god.

"Why don't you understand that I'm not ready to go _public_?" I asked, still facing the other side of his room.

"Why can't you understand that I can't keep playing this little… game?" His words and tone were harsh. Hasher then I was use to receiving from him. I knew that this discussion would come up. Because it came up often, except I would end it with a kiss or a swift motion of my long eyelashes. I wasn't facing him this time.

"It's not a _game_, Arnold. It's how I _am_." He let go of my waist and shifted himself so he could climb over me. He stood in front of me wearing a pair of boxers and a white tee shirt. He turned and just looked at me, no emotion, no smile, nothing.

"But why? I mean, it's been almost four months. I mean… I want _all_ of you. I can't deal with only having the physically aspect of you."

What the hell is he talking about?

He shook his head, I could tell he was slowly losing both his patience and his temper. He turned around and walked out of his bedroom. I looked at his clock and noticed that it was already almost seven.

How time flies when you're having fun.

I got up and walked over to his window. I wasn't going to stay here. I was losing my own temper.

I wasn't sure if it was directed to him or to myself.

(_Days go by and still I think of you, days when I couldn't live my life without you_.)

"So, open up to him." I looked at Phoebe as if she had grown a second head. Upon leaving Arnold's house I found myself in another familiar bedroom. Unlike me, Phoebe slept alone in her full sized floor bed. I had slowly begun opening up to her after my own _personal_ incident after the funeral. We refer to it as the _darkness_.

"I have opened up to him!" I said, glaring at her ever so slightly. She gave me a skeptical look and continued drinking her tea.

"This coming from a girl who had be bribed with caramel chocolates to tell me about her first kiss with _the boy_." I looked at her and slightly scowled.

It was good chocolate, it was expensive chocolate, you all would have done the same thing.

I slowly allowed my face to relax as I had new thoughts float into my head. What if he goes out with Lila? What if he figures out I'm not good enough for him? What if he figures out I'm a lost cause? I might lose him. I can't lose him. Oh, oh I can't breathe.

"Helga!" Phoebe said as I began hyperventilating. It seems that the _addiction_ has added bonuses. Like even the thought of not having the _addiction_ would cause me pain.

"I'm…fine…" I said through the deep breaths I was taking.

"Slow breaths… slow breaths." Phoebe coaxed as I calmed myself down. I looked at her and bit my lip.

"Why am I doing this to him?" I said as I placed my face in my hands.

"Because you love him, and he loves you. So you guys have a few things to work out, what relationship doesn't?" Phoebe then smiled her _you know I know what I'm talking about_ smile and gave me a comforting hug.

Phoebe is one of those people I can never live without. Even if we only talk every other few days, I need her in my life until I die. I have to die first. I then felt bad because Phoebe and me weren't what we had once been before. Granted we were still close. And I had finally told her _everything_. Ok, that's a lie too, but I told her _enough_. I don't know whether to lock myself in my bedroom, pull another "stunt" (as Arnold so _delicately_ put it), or to just give up. I realized all my options would lead to the same place.

"Fight for him." I looked to see Phoebe smiling a knowing smile.

We really do have ESP.

(_And when I think it's over, it's just begun. It'll never finish because I'm slowly realizing I'm still not done_.)

I was sitting on my couch reading _Sense and Sensibility_. Miriam had gone to my grandmother's for the weekend and wouldn't be returning till Monday afternoon. She had begged me to go (ok so she asked me and I politely declined), but I wanted to have some alone time with the house. I felt I hadn't been in the house since forever. I'm sure it helped that I avoided the house in fear another memory would find itself in my head, but this is beside the point.

Right as I was getting to the good part (where Mary-Ann and Willoughby have a _disagreement_) the doorbell rung. I put down my book and straighten my tee shirt. I made my way to the door, yawning mind you, and opened it to reveal a bored Gerald and a livid Arnold.

"Where the _hell_ have you been all morning?" He almost screamed. I looked over at Gerald who rolled his eyes and folded his arms.

"I was at Phoebe's." I said, walking past him and back into the living room.

"So you couldn't have told me that before racing out of my bedroom this morning!" This time he sort of did shout.

"You left first!" Very mature old girl, very mature.

"Oh that's sweet, that's so _sweet_." He said clenching his fists. He was very angry. I guess he had a right. According to Phoebe he had a lot of mixed up and pent up emotions. It brought little comfort to me knowing I was the cause of this emotional distress.

"I'm sorry, ok?" He was worried that I had gone and done something _final_. I can't blame him; I have a tendency to be easily broken and often even suicidal. I wanted to hold him, maybe try and comfort him. But I didn't completely trust going near him right now. Somehow he was reminding me of Bob when Bob got that temper going. I knew Arnold would never, ever do anything to me, but I still had to be frightened.

I guess sensing my fear, or knowing it, he eased up and simply stared at me. His eyes were so soft, he was dying inside. I looked over to see Gerald, completely in his own world, leaning against the doorway of the living room.

"Gerald can I talk to Arnold? Alone?" He looked at me and then Arnold as if he had forgotten where he was.

"Uh… yeah, sure. Catch you later Arnold."

"Bye." I turned and waited for the door to close before I opened my mouth.

Arnold was staring at me; his lips were pressed together in a line.

"I'm not… I'm not ready to admit to the world that I love you." I watched carefully to see if he had a reaction. Knowing Arnold, of course he had a reaction. His mouth opened in a confused shape as his eyes clouded over. I realized this was the first time I had ever said "I love you" to him, with him being conscious of course. "I'm not ready to show the rest of the world that part of me. I'm not even sure that part of me exists when you're not there." This was turning out so corny.

Ok, time to switch gears. He wants more then just the _physical_. He got it.

"I miss her." I sat down next to him (he had sat down after the whole mini confession). I took his hand in mine and began unweaving and weaving my fingers with his. "I miss everything. Like when we were kids and our biggest, well your biggest, issue was what game to play next." I smiled sadly. "I don't know who I am or where I'm going Arnold. I'm lost. I'm not use to having someone come up behind me and whisper that them love me, or try to kiss me to show me. I'm use to yelling and empty bottles in the trash can. I'm use to hiding behind a desk or a table whispering about how one day you'll love me back. I just want you to know that it's not just some game. I do love you."

I could feel the tears in my eyes as I stared at our hands. I _do_ love him. So help me, I would _die_, literally _die_ without him.

He was my salvation.

"I love you too." I looked up surprised by his voice. "I think, I might, maybe have loved you all along." Because I am a _sick_ person, I began to laugh softly.

"We're so corny." I continued to laugh before I felt a pair of lips stop the laughter. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he gently leaned us down on the couch.

I was too far into the _addiction _at this point.

There was no turning back.

(_When I see the way you look at her and the way she runs her fingers through your hair. I just want to scream. She'll never love you, like I love you. And that's all you have to know to care_.)

Monday had sneaked up upon me as I woke up this morning. I was too tired to be in school. I slept yesterday night, ten hours actually (between the sleeping pills and Arnold, sleep came easily). However I was just not in the mood to have to deal with school. I was so thankful we only had two weeks left.

As I walked to my locker I saw Arnold standing at his locker talking to _Lila_. That little… I began to slow my pace down and strain to hear what was going on.

"Oh come on Arnold." Lila said in her annoying little voice. "We would have _ever so_ much fun!" She was only sweet to him. I find this sickening.

"I'm seeing someone." He said shuffling books in and out of his locker.

"Who could you possibly be seeing? I don't see you with anyone in school."

"I doesn't matter who I'm seeing, I _am_ seeing someone though." He said rolling his eyes.

I stood a few feet away watching them. She gently placed her hand on his arm and gently began to move her other hand up and down his chest. She was one _bold_ kid. I watched as he gently leaned against his locker glaring at her.

"Lila…" He was just so lost for words.

This would just not do.

I walked over to them and gently moved my arms around his waist from the back. I felt him stiffen in confusion. I then gently paced my chin on his shoulders and looked at Lila. I believe I was smirking.

"Do you mind? I wanted to spend some quality time with _my_ boyfriend." Here it is the beginning of the end.

It was amusing to watch her jaw drop and her eyes get big. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a rather large SUV. It was quite funny.

"You… you're going… you and Arnold?" I smiled as I let go of him and moved to stand in front of him.

"Yep, almost four months, right?" I looked over at him and smiled. He gently wrapped his arms around my shoulders and kissed the side of my face.

"Yep." He smiled and just looked at Lila.

Her eyes narrowed and she turned around and stomped away from us.

My smile slightly dwindled as I felt his arms around me. I loved being in his arms, but as my eyes looked around I noticed that the students in the hall way were in shock at seeing such a display from one of the best baseball players on the team and the antisocial misfit of the school.

It was like Jekyll and Hyde.

It made little to no sense.

I felt his lips on my head again before letting go and smiling at me.

"What happened to you weren't ready?" Oh, I'm still not. I looked around the hall and shrugged. I looked at him and smiled slightly.

"I don't know I guess a girl's got to do, what a girl's got to do." Right now this girl was about to go to the bathroom and cry her eyes out because she was not ready to be brought into the light just yet. I was so use to being ignored. I was use to being a shadow, standing still, observing.

This whole moving thing is killing me.

I began to walk to my locker. I felt his hand slip into mine and the daunting eyes watching as we made our way down the hall. I couldn't bear to see their hollow eyes watching every move I was making.

"That look in her face. Brilliant." He let go of my hand continued to make gestures with his hands as he talked.

I wasn't sure why I was so against going public but I didn't want to get hurt. I didn't want Arnold to get crap because he cared for the social misfit of the school. I mean I'm not _the_ social misfit of the school, but for some reason I was not held _highly_ among our peers. Go figure.

I noticed that Arnold had stopped talking and had been staring at me. "What?" I asked as I began pulling another book from the dark corners of my locker.

"Why did you do that?"

"What?" I looked at him as I gently closed my locker door.

"You just did it so Lila wouldn't bother with me." He said dejectedly.

I did the only thing I could think to do. I dropped my books and wrapped my arms around his neck and gave him an earth-shattering kiss. I pulled away and looked at him.

"I did it because I couldn't bare to see her near you. I did _that_ because I love you." He gave me one of his _nice_ smiles and kissed me gently before picking up my books.

"I'll see you in English."

"Bye." I smiled as he ruffled my hair and made his way in the opposite direction. I looked around and noticed the hollow eyes of people I had known most of my life.

I walked to my class and entered, noticing that I was early and no one was in here yet. I looked at the ceiling and began shaking my head.

"When the hell did I begin to _care_?"


	9. Hitting the return key

****

A.N: Oh my god… I am SOOO Sorry for the prolonged update!!!! I am like so so so sorry. God, with school and work and now since I can no longer write on the main computer, uh, I'm so sorry. I can't even remember what I wrote about, haha, that's never a good thing. I can't even tell you when the next chapter is going to be out, it can be tomorrow, Wednesday, or even next week sometime… damn schedule ( I'll try my best to get it out ASAP. And I'm sooooo sorry for this delay :( I hope you enjoy this chapter ((Side note: No, Helga is not becoming a popular little thing, she's actually totally gonna rebel next chapter, you'll see what I mean… sooo sooo sorry.))

(_As the stars fall I'll still pray, because no matter what, I need to be saved. And from here on out I'll be on my own. Starting as a brave new girl_.)

"Get up sleepy head." I rolled over and looked at the green eyes of my addiction. He was smiling as he sat on the edge of his bed. Another night sleeping next to him. It was a beautiful, beautiful thing.

"What time is it?" I mumbled, rolling back to face the bookshelf.

"Six fifteen. We have to get ready for school." I felt the bed shift as he got up and walked over to his dresser.

"Why?" I asked.

"We need an education." I sighed as I further wrapped myself into the blankets.

"I don't." I heard my voice growing softer as the sweet arms of sleep began to cradle me.

"Get. Up." I heard his gruff voice echo through my head. As I shifted his lips were mere millimeters from my face.

That _bastard_.

I rolled over and snuggled deeper into his blankets. He roughly threw them off me and grabbed me around my waist.

"Come on! We're going to be late!" He said as he began to lower me to the ground. I stood and glared at him as I went to his dresser and pulled out the bottom drawer. I threw a pair of jeans and a tee shirt half across the room before grabbing a pair of his socks and then picking up my clothes and heading to the bathroom. Glaring at him the entire round about.

It took twenty-five minutes to get ready and then get out the door to wait for the bus. His arm was gently around my shoulders as my own arms were folded over my chest.

One more week, just one more week and then it won't matter who sees me with him. Which group concentrates on me as I walk down the halls. No red headed drama queen glaring at me every time he kissed me. Not that I noticed any of these things.

The morning bus ride was never the problem. Most kids got their parents to drive them, drove, or walked. Arnold enjoyed taking the bus because he is use to taking a bus. The boy is somewhat standoffish on change. I can't really blame him. The bus was never an issue. Now, _school_ is a totally different issue. I've known the majority of these people since I was four. I have grown up with them. We use to play baseball in a small little field every afternoon. Hell, most of them had been at the funeral.

So I would expect them to be somewhat more understanding of my relationship with Arnold. One of the few aspects of my life that is now _public_. But, no. This is not the case. The student body is somewhat in shock at my relationship with Arnold. I don't know if this is because I'm _Helga_ or if it's the fact he's Arnold or because after almost sixteen years of being mean, intolerable, ignorant, and generally anti social, I'm slowly (very, _very_ slowly) opening up to the real world. To this day I am still very much untrusting and caring towards the real world.

Go Figure.

"You ok?" I looked from the window to Arnold and nodded. "Are you sure?" I wanted to tell him I hated everyone in our school. How for the past week, since _we_ had become official, I was now fresh news. How the popular girls looked at me as if I was up to something and the punk rock kids stared at me as if I was betraying the will of the gods. And I was not use to having any sort of real attention. I missed being a wall.

"I'm fine." I smiled slightly and looked back out the window. I felt his arm slip around my shoulders. He was getting better with the comforting of me. It had gone from words to actions. I enjoy actions far better then words. One never has to _formally_ respond to actions.

(_I can break a million ways but for some unknown reason I can still function another million days_.)

I walked to my seventh period class excited that there would only be one class after this and then I could go home and sleep.

I was so close to the door when a tall person suddenly found her way standing eye to eye with me. She had long black hair that literally _glittered_. She was wearing a red tank top with a jean skirt that went to her calves. She was wearing red flip-flops with a small black purse clutched close to her body. I inwardly sighed as I noted she had on one of her social smiles. Fake and reserved for those who she did not find worthy enough to be in her presence.

I could only wish for that kind of self-loving self-esteem.

"What's wrong Rhonda?" I asked. I noted my voice was somewhat rigid. Which I assumed was my lack of sleep.

"As you know," This is how she starts _every_ conversation. I rolled my eyes but said nothing. "I'm having my annual summer block party."

Ah, yes, that. It was easily one of _the_ social events of the year. She had a party for _everything_, grant you, but this party always went out with a kick. I've never been invited to the social event.

"Yes, and?" I wanted to begin crying or screaming (whichever seemed more befitting, I would have only known had I done one), as I saw her eyes cloud over with a look of social suicide.

Ironic, isn't it?

"Well, since you are on the arm of one of my dear and close friends." Translation: Since you and Arnold are hooking up, and he's popular. "I'd be honored if you were to attend my summer bash." You better show up and accept your new position in a _real_ society.

It's funny how high school can be traced back to it's own social society. Rules from the real world do not apply in high school. High school is not something you can ever experience again. There's nothing like it. Let's all take a minute to thank some higher power for that fact.

"I'll have to check with Arnold." This of course means I'll cry, until I can't breathe, to stop him from going and making me go.

"No worries dear." She said as if she was talking to one of her servants who accidentally stepped onto the Oriental rug in the formal living room. I hear they fire people for that. "Arnold confirmed his attendance with me this morning."

He _would_.

"Oh, well, then…" I trailed off. I was caught in a social mousetrap. Take the cheese and die or wait for the cat to find you. I'd like to believe that Rhonda is both the cat and the trap.

"I'll take your charming stuttering as a yes." She gave me a smirk and then turned and walked away.

She just insulted me by complimenting me. Oh, she's _good_.

I looked around before letting out a well-deserved sigh.

This was going to be one hell of a week.

Oh, and I'm going to kill _him_.

(_There was a time I could never forget the feel of your lips against mine. And then suddenly it went away. What happened to us_?)

"It's just a party."

You ignorant son of a… My mind trailed off as I glared at the cornflower haired boy. He was being totally unfair about this. (At least that's how I'd like to think of it.)

"Helga, come on, I gone to this every year since fifth grade. Rhonda will kill me if I don't go." She's been holding this stupid thing since fifth grade? Well then.

"I don't want to go!" I slightly shouted. We were currently on his roof fighting about something as irrelevant as a party. People were _dying_ but our biggest worry is a party. Damn social economy of high school.

"Then don't go. I don't care." Leave him alone with Lila and her cult? Not go to a social event that I have _never_ been invited too? Miss seeing the look on everyone's face when I show up looking somewhat fashionable? (I don't care about appearances, but so help me; I will be dressed to _kill_. For the record, we know there might be some blood shed anyway.) I'm such a sick person.

"But Rhonda is expecting me to go with you." I said it with an air of annoyance surrounding it.

"Then go!"

"No!" He glared at me; well he stared at me angry but more so confused. I was surprised the boy stayed with me for so long. I bet he was wishing he never tried to figure me out right about now.

"Helga, either you go or you don't. I will be at your house, next Friday night at seven sharp. Either you'll come with me or have your mom tell me your sleeping. I won't make this anymore difficult for you." I wanted to beat my head against a wall. There just weren't any I could get too. I looked at him and felt whatever little strength or will I had left crumble.

I loathe him.

I went up to him and gently leaned myself against him. His arms wrapped around my waist as he continued to glare down at me.

"See you at seven." I gave him a quick kiss and then pulled away. "By the way." I turned and gave him an award-winning smile. He smiled back. "You're not allowed to touch me until Friday night."

I felt my smile broaden as his diminished.

I was somewhat proud of myself.

(_Contrary to belief, I am a happy person. Also contrary to belief I have a tendency to be a little compassionate. But this is besides the point. I can still hurt you_.)

Friday had actually come to soon for my tastes. We had said good bye to our teachers and departed the school ground hearts heavy but spirits high.

Arnold, assuming I was joking, had tried to find ways around the no touching statement attachment to the party law. He was quickly shot down and I was free to do whatever I wanted. (Which isn't much because my foresight failing me I couldn't have imagined how much I had missed him.) He had Gerald give me random hugs (an awkward event on both our parts) and made Phoebe give me notes. The notes confused me because he was still allowed to talk to me. But, whatever.

I was walking to my house with Phoebe who had been going to Rhonda's parties since fifth grade as well (yet they question my paranoia). She was excitedly telling me about what went on and all the fun things that made Rhonda's party a social event.

I was obviously regaining my ability to hide my true feelings because neither Phoebe nor Arnold had picked up on my annoyance for this party.

I am not a social butterfly. I _just know_ something bad is going to happen. I am not a person who should be pushed into the lime light of the public. Why were Phoebe and Arnold so gun-hoe on making me… _this_?

"Are you listening?"

"No." I replied quickly. I noted her glare and shrugged it off. "Sorry, go on."

"As I was saying—" She continued on her tangent of, I believe, what she was going to wear to the party.

As Gerald's girlfriend, Phoebe held a much higher position in high school society then I did. She was like a duchess where as I was of new wealth. Granted, Phoebe, from about seventh grade on held a higher position then I did or could possible ever want to hold. She didn't care though. This was what made Phoebe a good person. She could roll with the punches and at the end of the day still be Phoebe.

I, under whichever circumstance, did not ever return at the end of the day as Helga. I have too many _Helga's_ to be just one every day.

I was slowly realizing that I could not handle this new position in high school society.

"You're still not listening!" I turned to the petite girl and looked at her blankly. Damn right I wasn't listening. I have slightly more important things to think about.

"I'm sorry! What?" I said as we reach the door to my house.

"I asked if you were ready to get ready for the party." I looked at her and shrugged.

Here it comes, the blonde version of _She's All That_.

(_I feel just like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, except for that whole hooker thing_.)

I personally wanted to fall over and begin crying. I was not this person. Whoever I was looking at in the mirror was not me. I am not this girl. I am a sarcastic, sadistic, pessimist, cynic, who likes referring to herself as _broken_, and laying in her bed staring at the ceiling. I was not a make up wearing, dress wearing, hair all done up, type of person.

"You look FABULOUS!" Phoebe smiled as she looked at herself in the vanity in my mother's room. We were currently in my mother's room because she had a full-length mirror, a vanity, and a private bathroom. Where as my room is the size of a shoebox with a mirror the size of my hand. Maybe slightly smaller.

I looked at Phoebe. Her raven hair was half up and half down. The half that was up was in two tiny ponytails on the sides of her head with curls. And the half that was down was straight as a pin. She was wearing her thin, silver rimmed glasses that made her look smart with an air of funky class. She was wearing a white tank top with a baby blue cotton skirt and a pair of white sandals. She had on various blue accessories.

I turned back to my own mirror. My hair was up with curls and more curls. I had on a baby pink, spaghetti strapped dress with white lace covering the entire thing. I was wearing a sliver necklace with a silver heart charm dangling from it. I also had a white, thin headband that had little pink rhinestones on it. I was wearing white sandals that had a strap going up my legs. Again, I wanted to cry.

"I look… like…" I didn't look like me, that's all I know.

"Rhonda is just going to die when she sees you!" Phoebe said excitedly.

This isn't who I am. It was the only phrase running around my head. Where's my worn out jeans? My old tee shirt? I needed my white scrunchie for when my hair made the back of my neck too warm. Who the _hell_ is this girl looking at me in the mirror? Who the _hell_ is this girl sitting at the vanity worrying about if her eye shadow is too heavy?

When did it all change? And how much longer was it going to last?

"I know that you're not use to this." I turned and looked at Phoebe. She was actually showing more then just excitement. Her face showed the severity of my actions. "I know that you hate this whole idea and I support you if you want to stay home."

I shook my head as I turned back to the mirror. I felt the sting of tears in the back of my eyes.

Who am I?

"It'll get better." She reasoned. "It's just one night. And this _will_ kill Rhonda." I felt a hand on my shoulder.

I turned and gave my mother a soft look. She must have just got home from work.

"My, my, you two look quite lovely." She smiled. I needed her smile. I needed her to tell me that this was stupid and to just have fun. That after tonight it didn't matter anymore. I also wanted her to tell me we were moving and I would never have to see these people again, but one wish at a time will do.

"I'll go get our purses." Phoebe said as she walked out of my mother's bedroom.

"You look simply to die for. Arnold is going to be so… amazed." I looked at my mother and silently leaned into her arms. I wanted to cry so badly, but Phoebe had spent so long on my face and hair. I couldn't ruin it all because I was having a mental break down. "You're still Helga, baby. You're still the same person from yesterday. This party isn't going to change that."

I was happy when she stopped and she hugged me back. I felt anymore words would lead to tears.

For an ex-alcoholic, my mother was pretty perceptive.

I am just a hypocrite.

"The guys are here!" I felt my mother lightly kiss the top of my head as she let go of me.

"Have fun." She smiled at me. I nodded and walked to the stairs. Phoebe was using my hand-sized mirror to make sure her hair was perfect. I shook my head, the curls bouncing against my scalp.

I walked down the stairs and carefully made my way to the door. I smiled softly as I opened the door to reveal our two guys.

Gerald was wearing a white shirt with a pair of dark blue jeans. Under the shirt was a baby blue wife beater. This is enough to make the tabloids slightly ill.

Arnold was wearing a pair or black jeans and a red button down shirt open, revealing a white wife better. His hair was pushed back and partly hidden under a red baseball cap. A chunk of blonde hair stuck out from it in the front and gave him a boyish charm.

I couldn't help to think if this is how he dresses at every social event.

"Wow Helga." Gerald said giving the thumbs up, his attention was quickly diverted when he saw Phoebe flying down the stairs. I turned to watch them embrace.

I felt a pair of arms wrap around me. "You look stunning." His husky voice, when spoken with a whisper, could make a girl fall in love all over again.

It felt _so good_ to be in his arms. I had missed it so much. I turned, his arms still around me, and wrapped my own arms around his neck. He was about to say something but all I wanted was to taste him. Did he _ever_ taste so good.

I was reluctant to part with him. I was willing to learn how to not breathe.

"Let's go love birds." Gerald said as we made our way outside, Gerald's SUV sitting in front of my house. As the oldest he was the first to get a car and the first to get a license. At seventeen, it's a wonder what they can do.

"This is going to be so much fun." I barely heard Phoebe in the front seat as I found myself lip locked with Arnold again.

One week could easily cause an addiction to become worse.

Damn withdrawal.

At leats my thoughts weren't on the party.

That's gonna be a nightmare all in itself.

Damn social society.


	10. The Natural Order

Hope you enjoy :) ((MAJOR drama/angst at the end, so you know, know I have a plan for _ever_ detail :)) R&R

(_Life is funny in the sense that things happen to you on a constant basis. At the end, your left standing with a million moments that might or might not have meant anything to you_.)

The music was blasting, people were talking, the lights were dim, and I felt like I was in club waiting to be pushed against a wall to make room for the celebrity of the evening. I wonder where Rhonda was anyway?

I looked over to see Nadine smile at me and nod her head in approval of my attire. She was the seventh person within the last thirty minutes to approve of me. Or well, my attire, I'm sure none of them was actually _approving_ of me.

I looked around the room and watched faces of people I knew all my life and faces of people I had never met before dancing and laughing. There was a large food table in the living room with an overly large boy eating chips. I felt a sense of satisfaction as I realized it was Harold. The line backer for the football team. I then felt a sense of dooming. Even _he_, a boy three or four times my weight who still couldn't speak English well, was socially higher then me. He had even had a girlfriend since last year. The way the world turns I guess.

I looked to my right to make sure that Arnold was still near me. Which is slightly silly because he was holding my hand as he weaved in and out of the crowds of people. I was allowing myself to be pulled by him to meet and greet his usual friends. Sid, Stinky, Lorenzo, Harold, Sheena, Eugene, and various other kids we had known since preschool. Each one looked at me and complimented me, but they also stared at me trying to recall who I was. I didn't look like Helga, I wasn't acting like Helga, there was no way _I_ Helga G. Pataki, was Helga. Amusing, isn't it?

"Sid!" I turned and watched as Arnold move from me to high five his friend and teammate. "Did I miss anything?"

I felt extremely awkward as Sid ran down all the events that had led to and happened already at Rhonda's summer bash. It was almost like he was speaking a different language. Like I could grasp on to the idea, but nothing specific. Then again, I am not part of this social order. I am going out with the ambassador of this social royalty. I'm nothing but a _guest_.

"So who's the babe?" I looked up and turned to the boy with the large nose. I looked him over. He looked different, taller, somewhat muscular, he could even be considered _cute_. What am I saying? Sid is of social royalty in our school, he's not only _cute_ he's drop dead gorgeous. The boy has a smile that can talk his way out of being suspended. It was rumored that he even used it to get out of a test. Sid was first class, going out with Nadine (another social debutante) I'm sure had it's advantages.

"It's Helga." Arnold smiled, wrapping his arm around my waist.

Oh, it's the beginning of the end.

Sid looked at me, slowly moving his eyes around my face and then up and down my body. He seemed to not want to accept the fact that I was Helga. I have noticed a lot of people doing that. His face twisted into sort of a frown and then quickly shifted to a smile that was probably reserved for situations such as this.

"You look cute." He smiled at me, then high five Arnold, and then went about his _merry_ little way.

"See, it's not _too_ bad." I looked at Arnold and slightly glared. Of course it's not _too_ bad, you know these people, you've been in their habitat since we were in fifth grade, you are _apart_ of their natural order. I feel like lone antelope in the territory of vicious lions. I know I won't survive.

"Uh huh." I couldn't go any further. I felt going further would really put a damper on his night. For Arnold, this was social bliss. I'm in a social nightmare. My eyes once again darted around the room landing on a tall girl with mouse brown hair and big brown eyes. She was tall and slender, almost like a model. Standing next to her was a tall boy, maybe her height or half an inch taller, with flaming red hair and a charming smirk. I knew why Sheena was invited; she was Rhonda's favorite project. It took a few seconds but I realized that Eugene was only invited because he was Sheena's new beau. He was like me in a lot of ways.

"Helga! Arnold!" I gently hugged Eugene back as he and Sheena stood in front of us smiling. They were actually a pretty cute couple, as well as decent human beings. I think I might like them as _real_ people.

"Sheena you look great!" Arnold smiled and then he turned to Eugene and high five him.

"You both look so cute." She smiled as she clasped her hands together, a dreamy look in her eyes. Sheena was always like this. I'm happy to know that she never truly changed. It gives me hope. "Arnold you just have to come say hi to Roxy, she's from the agency, she wants to meet all my closest and dear friends!"

Before either Eugene or myself could mutter a word our dates were rushing over to a tall woman with pink hair and large blue eyes. The name Roxy totally _fit_ her. I shook my head and looked over to Eugene. The boy hadn't done too badly for himself. He wasn't drop dead gorgeous or anything, but he was cute. He had a boyish chic about him.

"You look great Helga." I focused on his face again and gave a confused look. "I haven't seen you this made up ever."

My shoulders fell as I realized what was going on. I was changing.

"I didn't mean it like that." Eugene chuckled and began scratching the back of his head. "I meant that… out of everyone in this room, I don't think anyone could handle something like this, as well as you're handling it."

I nodded. I was still confused. But I trusted Eugene, I don't know why. Maybe because all through junior high and last year, Eugene was much like me. Talked to by few and acknowledged by even fewer. Except for the fact he accepted his new position, and was even _happy_ about it, him and me were of like souls. I took great pleasure in this fact.

"Oh good, you both made it." We both turned to see Rhonda standing with her hair and make up all done out and her social smile present on her stained pink lips. Eugene's demeanor fell as the social princess looked at us.

"Of course we came." I heard him say. "How could we miss _such_ an event."

Rhonda, oblivious to his undertones smiled brightly and took the comment as a compliment. The girl was smart, but also very, very self-involved.

"Well, you two enjoy the party. If you need anything just find me." She smiled as she went to talk to another group of people. The truth be told she would make it part of her evening not to be found by us. She stopped and turned and gave me the one over. Phoebe was right; Rhonda was about to die. "You look _nice_ Helga." And she was off again.

Well… ok then, I thought as I turned back to Eugene who was looking through the crowd of people. I followed his glaze to Sheena and Arnold who were making their way towards us.

"Miss me?" Sheena asked as she wrapped her arms around Eugene's waist.

"Of course." He smiled at Arnold and me and then led Sheena away.

"Let's go see who else showed up." I looked at him. I was already tired, my feet hurt from these stupid heels, and I wanted my sweat pants and a T-shirt and to be wrapped in his arms in his bed. Was this all too much to ask for? "What?"

"Can't we just… sit… for a little while?" My tone was flat. I didn't _know_ these people. I didn't _know_ their ways of conduct. All I heard were elusive undertones and silent glares. Which of course Arnold is oblivious too because he is _like_ them. He's _better_ then them, but so much _like_ them.

"Ok." I could hear the undertones in his tone but chose to ignore them. They were so _good_ at undertones. I use _they_ as a collective group of social royalty. I use _them_ as a collective group of non-social royalty. I've decided that this whole social royalty. Totally sucks.

"Aw, look at you two!" This is where I pull a gun from my purse and begin shooting randomly. Of course this is all done _mentally_ but still.

I looked up to see Lila blocking our path way to the couch. The beautiful, soft couch. The finest material from Italy that money can buy. I looked at the red head vixen and noted her usual outfit. Her hair was down in curls and waves, her make up perfect, her smile sweet. She was wearing a dark green tank top with the word 'Conduct' in glittery light green letters scribbled across it. She had a black mini skirt on with heeled sandals. She had on various types of silver jewelry and was currently standing with her arms behind her back. Almost innocent it seems.

"Thanks Lila." Arnold smiled slightly. I wanted to hit him. I looked back at her and nodded curtly.

"Why aren't you two dancing? The music is just incredible." She said as she slightly began to move her hips. That little… I stopped myself and looked to see Arnold actually pondering dancing. He's such a pain in the butt. My god.

"Actually—"

"I would love to dance." He cut me off. I looked up at him and saw him pleading with me ever so slightly. How about he tries putting on heels and a dress and let's see how _he_ likes dancing.

"Arnold, I just want to—"

"I'll dance with you!" Ugh. Why doesn't anyone let me talk?

"Is it ok?" I looked at him. Was he serious? In what freakin' state of mind is he in to assume that this would be ok, _ever_.

"Come on, one dance, you can go rest up." Lila said as she smirked at me. Another undertone Arnold did not notice.

I looked at her and then back to him. I let go of his hand and backed off to the left slightly.

"Do whatever you want." I then began walking towards the kitchen. I needed something to drink, fast. Right before I disappeared I looked to see Arnold about to come after me until Lila grabbed his arm and pulled him towards Rhonda and Nadine.

What do I care at this point?

(_Sometimes it's easy to pretend I don't care. Like how it's easy to pretend that when you look at me, I'm not dying inside_.)

"What's a beautiful girl doing outside while a party is going on downstairs?" I had managed to find my way up to Rhonda's roof and was currently sitting on the edge watching the clouds move around the sky. I turned to look at a boy standing in the doorway for the roof entrance.

I didn't recognize him. He was about 6'2" or so. He had thick jet-black hair that was pushed back and slightly disheveled. He had on a pair of glasses that made him look approachable. He was muscular and had a _nice_ smile. He looked like a memory from a dream. But I didn't know him.

"Excuse me?" I heard the confusion in my voice.

"Don't tell me you forgot about me." He smiled as he swayed a bit and put his hands over his chest. "You're breaking my heart."

"I'm… I'm sorry." I said. He walked over to me and sat down, we both swung our legs as the night breeze went along. It was only nine thirty and I had only been up here for ten minutes or so, but I felt like eternity had passed me by.

"I guess I didn't expect you to remember me." He had a really _nice_ smile. And his voice was so sincere, gruff but still friendly. He gently reached up and pulled the clip that was in my hair down. My hair fell over my shoulders in a collage of curls, waves, and straight clumps. "So much better."

I was too shocked to say or do anything. He gently laid the clip in between us and smiled at me. I felt my arm move up to gently stroke my hair. My headache was slowly going away as the breeze gently picked up and lowered my hair unto my shoulders. The boy with the jet-black hair brought his hand up to my face and very gently pushed the hair behind my ear. I was frozen as he lowered his hand. He looked at me, straight into my eyes, and smiled.

"Who… are you?" I asked. A boy I did not know was slowly stalking me.

"Remember when you were nine." He smiled as his eyes left my face and he looked out into the darken street.

"I guess so." I said, still staring at him.

"You would hide behind everything from a trashcan to a table and take out a gold locket that had a picture of a boy in it." My mouth opened in shock once again. Was he for real? "And _every_ time you finished there was a low wheeze behind you."

Brainy.

"That was me."

I looked at him, once again. His hair was thicker, his skin tone slightly tanner, his eyes bigger, and his voice clear. He had a _nice_ smile with a trusting presence.

"Brainy?" I asked. He began laughing.

"I haven't heard that name since seventh grade." He continued to laugh. "It sounds good coming from you."

Oh. My. God.

"I'm… you're… I mean… Oh wow." I was at a lost for words. The boy was no longer the skinny kid with the breathing problem. He was actually cute, he was _real_.

"Brian, nice to meet you." He laughed as I gently took his hand. This was _not Brainy_. "It's amazing what developing early can do for a guy. After I got the new glasses and the asthma problem dealt with, I guess my body thought it was time to grow up."

"I'm so sorry I hit you all those times." Good job old girl.

"I deserved it." He smiled. "I never stopped watching you, ya know."

Hmm, creepy much?

"I mean, at school, in the halls. I guess it was a force of habit. I don't follow you around anymore, but sometimes I still just watch you. You never did change."

"Are you joking?" I asked. "I've changed more then anyone!"

"Only in the sense that you closed yourself up from the rest of the world." He said. He leaned back on his hands and looked at me. "You forget that I saw the _real_ you. I didn't see what every one else saw. I still see the _real_ you. When you have that thoughtful look on your face. The way your whole body becomes ridged when Arnold kisses you in public. The way you were so close to tears when Lila pulled away your only lifeline. I never miss a beat."

I was silent as I looked at him. No one ever noticed the little things about me. Not even Arnold.

"I saw you come up here and I just… I had to kind of see you." He smiled. He has such a _nice_ smile.

"Why did you use to stalk me?" I asked, I wanted to venture away from _this_ whole thing.

"I wouldn't call it so much as stalking as I would observing." I looked at him, he laughed. "Ok, so I stalked you. I don't know. You were so… complex. The way you had on this mask and the way you would melt when _he_ looked at you. I must say that I was quite drawn to you as a person. I was in love with all the little things that I knew no one else noticed."

"You loved me?" Again my voice was flat and I was in shock.

"I guess I did." He chuckled slightly and looked at me. "Is it so hard for you to imagine someone loving you?"

Yes, it is, actually.

"Who could possibly love me?" I said looking at him. I knew there were tears in my eyes as I looked at him. "I mean, look at me, I should be in a pair of jeans with a tee shirt sitting at home with a bowl of ice cream. I don't want to be here."

"Helga." He paused as he put his hand over mine. "Everyone in that room is fake. They don't go any further then what you see now. You are so much deeper then any of them will ever be. There is no way that you could _ever_ change. You're too complex and too deep to change. And trust me, you can't get any better then you are now."

Maybe it's not so hard to believe that someone could love me.

"Thanks." I said softly. I felt the breeze run through my hair once again.

"Hey, what else am I here for?" He smiled and gently nudged me. "So, how about you and me go down and dance a little?"

I still didn't feel like dancing. I looked at him and he smirked, nodding.

"Staring at the night sky it is then."

(_I don't care about the 'once upon a times,' I want to hear about the 'happily ever after'_.)

"Where have you been?" I turned and looked at Phoebe. I will not lie and say I was disappointed to be found by my best friend. I had just come downstairs and said a silent good bye to Brainy who seemed to disappear in the crowd. I knew I could find him by simply motioning with my hand.

"I was getting some air. I want to go home." I said to her. She looked at me and then at my hair.

"What happened to you?"

"I was raped." I glared at her. "What do you mean what happened to me? I took my hair down, I had a headache. Where's Arnold?"

"I think dancing." She said. I looked at her.

"Can you get Gerald?… I want to go home." I said, again. She looked me and nodded. Her undertones were quite livid.

I didn't bother to say anything else I simply went into the living room to find Arnold. I looked around and spotted Eugene talking to Curly.

"Where's Arnold?" I asked as I got to the two. Eugene looked at me and then around the room.

"I don't know." He said. "I haven't seen him for a while." I turned to Curly.

"The last I saw of him was with you." I looked at my watch. It was ten forty-five.

"Ok, thanks." I said as I made my way through the crowd.

"What's wrong?" I heard Brainy behind me. I turned and looked at him grateful, it was comforting to know he would come to my rescue.

"Can you find Arnold for me?" I asked. I intended to continue my search but Brainy was observant, he would _know_ where Arnold is.

"Give me five minutes." He was then off in the sea of people.

Rhonda's party was fairly large, a number of people from our school were there. I was surprised I could even walk two feet in front of me.

I made my way to the food table where I saw Harold standing.

"Have you seen Arnold?" I said as I pushed my way to him. He looked at me as if I was mad. But after a few seconds he realized who I was.

"Helga? Hey!"

"Ar-nold." I said. My tone was somewhat threatening, but it was all undertones. Harold looked up and scanned his section of the house.

"I saw him a few minutes ago. He was getting drinks."

"Thanks." I said, clicking my tongue against my teeth.

I again went on my search. I felt a hand grab on to my arm as I was about to take on the dinning room. I turned and looked at Brainy who had a serious expression on his face.

"Found him." I allowed him to lead me from the dinning room back to the living room where a certain cornflower haired boy and a certain red haired girl was sitting, talking on the couch. He had a huge smile on his face as she said something, making him laugh. They had sodas in their hands and were vividly talking about _something_.

I'm not saying anything was _going_ on between the two, but I am saying I'm a paranoid, jealous blonde. You do the math.

"I want to go home." I whispered. "Now."

I felt myself being pulled away. My eyes never leaving the two on the couch.

"Come on." I heard in my ear. "I'll take you home."

The last thing I saw was Lila's hand gently laying on his thigh, his smile never wavering.

(_And my smile never falters, not once, not ever. In the end it might have been fun, oh so fun. Days like these it's hard to wake up_.)

It was two in the morning. After Brainy dropped me off to my house and I got in I quickly scrubbed my face and changed my clothes. It was eleven fifteen or so and Miriam was in a deep sleep. I noticed her sleeping pills next to her bed and knew she'd be out cold until the morning. There was nothing in the world that could wake her up when she took the sleeping pills. Which I'm actually thankful for tonight.

I wasn't sure when the party ended, if it had ended at all, either way my cell phone had not been called. No one bothered to check on me. Go figure.

I wanted to scream, cry, bawl, _anything_. I wanted to make the rest of the world feel what I felt at that moment. I hated Rhonda, I hated my peers, I hated everyone and everything. I feel that I am justified to hate the world. I feel as if they gave me a gun, no one would be safe. I feel almost invincible in the fact that the world can slip away and I'll still be here. I'll never _leave_ this _place_. I slowly figured out that for the rest of my life I was going to be _here_ in this state of mind. I just wanted to _die_.

I'm not sure if it's because I had to dress up and enter unfamiliar territory. Or because someone from my past sees me for this person I don't _feel_ exists. Or because my boyfriend, the only one I could imagine loving, is not the same boy from when I was nine.

Arnold _is_ Arnold. He never changed in the aspect that he was caring, sweet, compassionate, and opinionated. He never changed in the idea he was some one who always wanted to figure me out and put me back together. But he's not the same guy with the weird shaped head from grammar school. He's part of a whole different social order. I never noticed because I didn't care. I didn't have to care. There was no reason to care. I had a _dying_ sister; Arnold was not something I decided was top priority. He's part of a tightly knitted social order that thrives to rule and _will_ have their way. I'm _not_ like them. I'm just not.

I've been hidden within my self for so long that I didn't realize everything had changed. When did Phoebe become a social elite? When did Brainy grow up? When did Eugene stop being known as _the jinx_? Where was I for all these changes?

That's right, in my house with a pillow over my head wishing for death to come and take me. Hmm, I guess that does entitle me to be a little lost.

I love Arnold. I know I do. He has given me every high I've ever experienced since I was four. His smile can make any day seem like a _better_ day. He can sooth my nerves by a touch of his hand or a breath from his lips. And as horribly clichéd and corny _that_ sounds, dammit, it's true.

Why can't I just have one _good_ moment? Why can't I just, _for once_, experience the rainbow? Why can't I be _happy_, like really, truly, _happy_?

Because I'm so broken I'm not even worth it anymore.

This is where the tears began coming. This is where everything from the time I was four came _finally_ crashing down. This is where the weight of the world finally rolled on me. This is the part where I was going to be strong and decided a plan of action. In reality, this is the part where I finally _break_.

I got off of my bed and walked over to me desk. I want everything to go away. I don't want to be here. I don't want to change. I want to go back to when I was nine and I _knew_ something. I grabbed various pictures from my desk and began ripping them. Phoebe, Arnold, various other people laid in shreds on my floor. I opened one of the drawers and took out a pink notebook. I opened it and began ripping the pages from the bindings. I began ripping my soul in shreds. I threw the tattered book against my wall. I clutched to the vase Bob had given me when I was eleven and threw it at my closet door. I took my hand-sized mirror and tossed it to the other side of the room. I wanted _something_ to hurt and be tattered like _I_ was hurt and tattered.

I was a sobbing wreck ripping random magazine pictures and song lyrics and various other things in tiny pieces of paper on my floor. There was hyperventilating and muffled screaming as I threw dolls and various clothes on the floor. If it looked even slightly expensive I threw it against something.

I looked over at my cell phone that was quietly sitting on my night table. I opened it, praying to some higher being there be a missed call. That there would be _something_. All I saw was my Garfield background with the little music note in the corner teasing me that I would have heard it if someone called. I snapped the phone shut and began crying even harder. I then threw the phone as hard as I could against the wall. I fell to the ground in a mess of sobs and tears.

Arnold would never leave me alone. So why did he tonight? What made tonight so much different? What the hell made him assume I would be ok? Why tonight? Was it because he was finally fed up with me? Was it because Lila actually looked nice in her green tank top? Was it because he thought _we_ were comfortable enough to have space? Was it because he's so use to this environment? To this social order? Was it him? Was it me?

I believe it was probably me. It will always _be_ me.

I slowly took my hands away from my face and looked at my room. The tears were still falling but my mind was slowly shutting down. I had destroyed every aspect of my life. The sheets were ripped off. My photos, writings, magazine clippings, and various other papers laid shredded on my floor. My hand size mirror and Bob's vase was shattered against the walls. Every aspect of my life, past and present, was now a shattered mess. I tried to grasp what this all meant.

I stood up and decided to go get the duster. I had long ago stopped trying to stop the tears. As I turned to find my robe I looked on my desk to see a lone picture that had managed to be salvaged. It was a picture of Olga. It had been taken years ago. It was done in black and white. He hair was pinned up and she was wearing a beautiful dress. It had been take a few weeks after we learned of the disease. I realized that she was only aspect of my life I could not destroy. How could I? She's already _destroyed_.

As I made my way down stairs I tried to figure out what was wrong with me.

I closed my eyes and shook my head. I didn't _want_ to think about what had happened, what would happen, and why it could _possibly_ be happening. I don't need the heres and nows. I want the tomorrow.

Nothing matters anymore.

It doesn't matter that I've hit new lows of self-esteem. It doesn't matter that I have no idea who I am or where I'm going. It doesn't matter that I'm alive and my sister is dead. It doesn't matter that Brainy _sees_ me and Arnold only _looks_. It doesn't matter the world _changed_ while I was praying for salvation. It only matters that tomorrow is just another day.

I'll solve the world's problems tomorrow.

I'll solve my problems tomorrow.

Maybe I can even find some salvation from the darkness I'm heading into.

Hopefully, tomorrow might never come.


	11. Now or never

(_If I only had one person who understood in the end… I think I would have done OK for myself_.)

I sat outside on the back porch sipping a large cup of tea. It was six in the morning and I still wasn't even slightly tired. I was broken, bent, and emotionally closed off, but not tired. I was sitting on the second to last step, leaning against the railing, watching the sun reflect off the slightly wet grass. We had a small yard that had a brown fence surrounding it, blocking us from our other neighbors. It was secluded and peaceful.

Maybe this is why I liked it.

Miriam had awoken ten minutes after my fall out. She walked into my room talking about a dream she had that the house was collapsing. She froze and glanced around my room. I was sitting in the middle of my floor trying to clean up all the random shreds of paper. She had asked me if I was ok. I nodded. She then proceeded to help me clean up. She asked me if I wanted to talk about it. I shook my head. I didn't want to talk or even really think about it.

I feel as if words might do more damage. Or maybe I felt I would do more damage. Either way I did not talk.

I leaned my head on the railing as the soft breeze ran over my body. I was wearing a pair of baggy shorts and a baggy tee shirt. My feet were secure in my pink slippers as my hands wrapped around the warm cup. Miriam was cleaning. She had been cleaning since four this morning. She claimed that she still wasn't done.

I suppose this is how she kept herself busy when she didn't have to go to work and I was at school when Olga use to lay in her bed sick. I suppose Miriam will be cleaning for the rest of her life. I suppose that's not necessarily a bad thing.

I gently took a sip of the tea allowing the liquid to flow smoothly down my dry throat. The steam rose about my face leaving a cool feeling as the breeze rushed across it. It felt good, the sudden rush of hot and cold air on my face. It felt ideal in some way or another.

I was slowly realizing a few things. Miriam is not just this woman anymore. She is my mother and is currently scrubbing holes in the floor so that she doesn't cry herself into an abyss. Arnold is a moron. He is too comfortable with us and expects me to be in the same stage as him. Everyone on this planet at one time or another as sunken to my levels of darkness. Yet, they live on.

So, why wasn't I living on?

Maybe it was because I'm so emotionally bent that I can no longer go any further then the darkness. Maybe I am meant to live in the darkness. Maybe my salvation, no matter what any one thinks or says, will be dark. This all might not be true but it is what I think. If I think it, I feel it. If I'm feeling it then I don't give _a damn_ what anyone says, it's true.

That's how that works though, right? If you feel like the world is crashing down on you, that _your_ world is _crashing_ down on you, how the _hell_ can _anyone_ tell you that it's not crashing down on you? We should be given guns for situations like that. However if this were the case there would probably be three people living on the planet. Two would have to be mute.

The tea slid down my throat in a charge of comfort. The tea itself was not comforting, just the effect of the hot liquid flowing down my throat. The warm feeling that enters my chest. The way, for that split second, I'm _whole_. If that's not illogical and premature, then nothing is.

I thought about moving to France. France is nice. I can buy a cabin by the sea, write novels every day, hire a French tutor, and let him live in my cabin in exchange for tutoring lessons, of course we'll eventually get married.

My thoughts that morning stayed mainly on irrational and fictional daydreams that will stay with me into my late forties. You know you've reach new lows when you tell the girls during your bridge game, "when I was sixteen… I swore I was going to runaway to a cabin by the sea." It doesn't get sadder then that.

At some point, I believe around six thirty, I ran out of tea. So then, it was just me sitting on the steps watching the blades of grass bend with the breeze.

"Helga?" I turned my head and looked at my mother who was in her robe and smelt of Lemon Fresh. "Are you ok?"

I nodded my head. I wanted to tell her that I wanted to die and to bury me in France. But this was illogical in _more_ then one aspect.

"Do you want more tea?" She looked at me, her eyes clouded with worry. I felt a pang in my chest. She doesn't deserve this, I thought. I'm the only one she has left.

"No thank you." I forced a small smile on my face. "I'm just getting some fresh air."

"Oh, ok." She smiled; it didn't reach her eyes. "If…" She trailed off. I looked at her, mentally urging her to go on. "If Arnold or Phoebe call—"

"_If_ they call." I cut her off. I felt my body become rigid. "Tell them I'm not feeling well, please?"

She nodded her head and gave me another small smile. "Of course."

"Thank you, mom." I said. I couldn't smile. I just couldn't.

"If you need anything, I'll be in my room." She smiled and I nodded my head. She then gently closed the door.

I looked out towards the tiny yard and watched as the grass swayed back and forth as the breeze came and went.

Even grass can move.

(_Maybe I was asking too much. I always ask too much. I didn't know this would be too much. But I guess everyone gets tired of helping_.)

I had made my way from outside to the shower to finally walking around the quiet streets. I had no way to communicate to anyone and no way for anyone to communicate with me. All I had was about three dollars, my tennis shoes, and a white jacket over a red tank top. This is how everyone should move around. With only the bare essentials.

I think it was two o'clock. I had been walking around for an hour and a half. I still had no sleep. I was literally a walking zombie. I didn't feel like a zombie though.

I figured out that Arnold is too _ready_ for _us_. He's on a whole different level then I am. He's at the _comfortable_ stage, where as I am at the _all new to this_ stage. I don't know how we boarded different trains, but we were at two totally different train stations. It's not a healthy relationship when one train is coming while the other is shutting down.

I know I have to _tell_ him this. However, that involves words. Words don't usually make the train start up again.

Damn words.

"Helga." I turned to see the boy with the cornflower hair behind me. He looked refreshed. He looked like he had slept quite nicely. "What happened to you last night?"

I quickly allowed my eyes to look around. We were a few blocks from the park. We were actually standing in front of our old grammar school. P.S. 118.

I found this amusing in some twisted way.

"Brainy walked me home." I said dryly. I might not be tired, but my voice suggested that I was in dire need of sleep.

"Why?"

"What do you mean why you moron? You _left_ me to hang out with _Lila_. If you have forgotten, I do not like Lila. I hate Lila. I hope Lila dies at sea. I hated last night. I hated being near all those horrible, two faced, brainless idiots. I spent the _majority_ of my time on the _roof_. You were _dancing_. You are an asshole!"

This is what I _would_ have said if I was coherent enough to be this angry. I was this angry, don't get me wrong, I just did not have the strength to fly at him with the claws out.

In reality I sighed a little and looked at him. "Because he was there."

Arnold looked at me. His lips were in a tight line and his eyes suggested something. I'm not sure what.

"I was there too." He said. I looked at him and folded my arms. I want to go in a corner and sob myself into the ground. First I have to deal with _this_.

"No, you weren't. You were dancing, and then talking." I said. I was calm. I was calm because I might not have felt tired, but I was. I was calm because some higher being likes playing this cosmic joke.

"You told me I could dance." When?

"No, I didn't. I told you to do whatever."

"So I danced!" You moron.

"That didn't give you permission to dance with your first love." I said. I could feel the hands of sleep pulling at me.

"It wasn't a big deal." He said.

I suddenly had a million thoughts running through my mind. What if they kissed? What if he made out with her after I left? What if they found themselves conveniently in Rhonda's guest bedroom? What if I'm left alone to raise the children while he whores around with secretaries? Whoa… what the hell is wrong with _this_ picture?

"Do you like her?" I asked. He looked at me. "Like… do you… _want_ her?"

"Helga, of course I don't want her." He said. He implied he wanted me. He came to wrap me in a hug but I stepped back.

"Then why were you _with_ her?"

(_Every fairy tale has the moment where Prince Charming comes to the rescue. That's great. When's my Prince Charming getting here_?)

I was lying in bed as the sun slowly set.

After my little comment with Arnold I turned around and walked home. Maybe I ran. Either way I got home. I went straight to bed. I didn't want to think about the possibilities, the _what ifs_. I wanted to lose myself in a nightmare that revolved around the beheading of Lila. Instead I dreamt I was falling down a well. Good times.

There was a knock at my door. I slowly prayed it be death coming to claim me.

It was my mother.

"Baby?" I sat up and slightly smiled. Maybe I didn't smile. I can't remember. "Arnold's been calling all afternoon."

"I don't care." I said. She sat on the edge of the bed.

"You don't deserve this." She said softly. She had _no_ idea what was going on, and still had the foresight to tell me that I was still deserving of a better chapter. This is what a mother should be.

"Mom…" I looked at her as the tears burned my eyes. "I can't do it anymore."

"Do what?" She asked. She was confused.

"Pretend that I want to be here." And then the sobbing came. I felt two arms wrap around me and pull me closer. My senses became clouded with the scent of jasmine. I felt my body shake as I let the sobs come out.

"Just let it out." She whispered. I began to sob harder.

"I can't be this girl. I can't love Arnold. I can't pretend that Olga is still here, somewhere. I want to just have one happy moment. I want to be at the same place Arnold is. I want to be at the same place everyone is. I want to move, I want to walk with them. I want to leave. I don't want to leave. I don't know who I am. Why am I so different? Why is everyone so _adjusted_? Why not me? Why isn't it ever me? Why can't I just have one good day? Just one!" I began coughing. My face was hurting from all the excessive crying. My eyes were tightly shut. I felt closer to the end of the tunnel.

"Why me? Why couldn't I have the happy childhood? Why couldn't the past four years be for _me_? Why… why did everyone else have to change?"

I continued to cry. I remember crying for the rest of the night. At least in theory. My mother never said a word. She just held me. She didn't feed me some crap about how everything happens for a reason. She didn't tell me that it would eventually get better. She didn't tell me to wait for _my_ time. She just held me.

For the rest of your life you will hear that everything happens for a reason. That you have to learn to adjust. That you have to make the best of any situation. That it _will_ happen _eventually_. And of course you _knew_ that. Of course in the end of _everything_ you were not _that_ stupid to not know about _eventually_. And you will be _forever_ thankful to those people who didn't tell you that when you knew it, but couldn't _feel_ it. You will be _forever _thankful to those who held you and let you cry.

For the record, _eventually_ might never come.

But they don't tell you that, do they?

(_I'm not worried about what happens next, but rather if at the end I'll be able to look back, laugh, and say, "Yeah, I knew it along"_.)

I woke up to the shifting of weight on my bed. I opened my eyes to reveal a tired looking Arnold. I then looked at the clock and noted it was four in the morning on the first Sunday of summer.

"What?" I asked as I closed my eyes again. I didn't really care how he got in because we were so use to each other in this sense it didn't matter.

"The back door was open." He mumbled. Like I care.

"What?" I said again. My eyes were swollen from the excessive crying. My body was in pain from the excessive emotion, and my head was slowly shutting down. What the _hell_ did he want from me?

"You want to know what happened between me and Lila?" I growled softly but kept my eyes shut. I couldn't even get a good night's sleep it seems. "She kissed me."

I tightened my eyes so that tears began to form along the rims. I began biting my lip in hopes that this was all a dream. It wasn't till I could taste the blood from my own lip that I figured out this was really happening.

"And you know what I did?" Oh good god. "I kissed her back."

Oh yeah, this is _totally_ how you end a relationship.

"And do you know what happened after I figured out that she was not you?" I pray something intelligent. "I pushed her away."

I opened my eyes and looked at him. He looked like a beaten dog crying to his master. I never beat him nor was his master. I was simply the girl he cheated on. Didn't that make me the inferior creature here?

"I am so sorry Helga. I just…" He sighed. "She was dancing and laughing. And then we began talking, about _everything_. I don't know what the hell I was thinking. She put her hand on my thigh and I just lost my mind for that moment."

That's comforting.

"I must have ran all over the party looking for you. And I couldn't find you. Harold said that you left and I thought that maybe you called your mom or something. I didn't want to call you because you said you were tired and I… I don't want Lila, I want you."

"Why?" It seemed to be the most rational thing I could think of at the moment.

"Because you're Helga. You're smart, pretty, sensitive, endearing, captivating, you're _you_." He said as he looked at me.

"Is that who I am?" I asked. I felt the tears begin to roll down my cheeks. "Is that all I am? How can you want to be with someone you don't even know? How can you look at me and say that you're sorry for losing your mind for a moment? How can you even think about _being_ with me when you're so much better off _without_ me?" I shook my head. I don't know anymore. I don't know if I was angry with him. I don't know if I was angry at the situation. I don't know if the world is going to turn around and screw me over again. I don't know if when the sun comes out if I'll still be the same person I was last night. I highly doubt I will be.

"Helga… I can't… I don't… I don't want to lose you."

"You're not going too." I heard myself answer quickly. It was true. He would have to cut a lifeline to get rid of me. "I think we both need time to evaluate where we are."

"You're suggesting—"

"A break." I nodded. I might have smiled. This is the first decision I have made as a person.

"I don't—"

"I do." I said. I gently ran my fingers through his hair. "I love you and I care for you, and no one or nothing can change that. But I have to figure out if I'm coming or going. I can't do that with you there."

"I can help you!" He insisted.

"No… you can't." I smiled sadly. My full attention was on his hair. My fingers were slowly getting lost in the soft locks of blonde. "This is something I have to do on my own."

He looked at me. "I can't leave you."

"Then don't." I smiled. He looked at me before gently laying his head to rest on my thighs. I laid back down on my bed. My fingers still were ruffling his hair.

I'd like to think this was all an elaborate dream and I'll wake up in his arms, in his room, two weeks before the party. Life doesn't work like that.

Maybe I just _need_ time to figure it all out.

I do need the _eventually_. But I knew that.

I guess it's not long now. It's never long now.

Please Read Author's Note in next chapter… then comment… thank you


	12. Life eventually goes on

****

OMG… she uploaded TWO chapters! I know right? But ANYWAY… I feel I must justify some aspects of the last chapter and this chapter and probably the rest of the story. This is NOT the last chapter… NOT THE LAST CHAPTER… my friend was reading it and interpreted it as the last chapter and began beating me with a pillow. It wasn't pretty. But using my friend as an example, I "confused her to China". Then she called me a coconut… so… now I have to justify myself… Gr. Ok, as you may notice in this chapter… I might have added something… dreadful… to the mix. Before you all begin attacking me (she did so one must assume) let me justify. This chapter takes place DIRECTLY after last chapter… I was actually going to start a new story but you guys can decide all this. On my computer it's all going to be the same story, just the plot has to change. For this chapter the plot is going to revolve around Helga "finding" herself. It's going to have more school moments, more social moments, and more general moments. Not only that, most of the moments will be my own experiences through high school. And trust me, it don't get any more dramatic then that. So as the plot twists the characters will twist with it. I can not keep them in character with their nine-yr. old counterparts… NO ONE is the same from nine to 16/17… And yes, a lot of the characters from the show will be present… preferably brainy cause I enjoyed writing him. I probably will have some kind of romance between him and Helga…. BUT I am a die-hard Helga/Arnold fan, please remember this for future reference… I can only get hit with a pillow so many times! Trust me, if you like my whole little dark drama, there will still be dark drama, I personally had horrible "moments" in high school. I've taken the plot from dreary confused Helga to dreary confused Helga trying to make her way through life. That _is_ how it works. I hope you all enjoy it and I'll be more then happy to hear feedback and even suggestions. If any one thinks I should make a "sequel" or rather just another story… just tell me :). I'm happy to make _you guys_ happy :) Oh jeez… I have rambled to new lengths… that's just perfect. If you have any major concerns or any suggests that you feel needs to be directed personally to me please email me at Dem500 at AOL. And I really, really, really hope you enjoy the twisting plot, since it's a new plot this chapter is much like a prequel and as it goes it'll flow much better. Sorry for rambling… and I hope you all enjoy. And thank you for all your support. You guys are amazing :)… and STORY TIME!

(_People have been coming and going for hundreds of years. The difference with this generation is that they never just stop_.)

The end of June, July, and the beginning of August the summer after tenth grade is referred to the 'runaway' period of my high school life. Not only did I run away, I left the country. As irrational as that sounds, oh well. My Aunt Margaret, who lives in Italy, had invited my mother and me to visit her to get away from our "run down lives". I saw opportunity in this whole experience.

My Aunt Margaret is forty-seven, acts twenty-five, and can speak three different languages. She has gone through three husbands and lives off her alimony. She has two kids. Justin, who's twenty, and C.C. who's seven. She didn't have any children with her second husband. Margaret is a woman that is unafraid of the world. She's not my aunt by blood. She and my mother went to school together. She moved to Italy ten years ago. She's a lot like me in some twisted way. I like Margaret. She'll go up to you, tell you she doesn't like you, and then discuss world politics with you. She's bold like that.

After spending two months in a foreign country I will not lie and say I missed _home_. I remember asking if I could go to the boarding school in which C.C. went too. Miriam told me no. I guess she wasn't ready to be like Margaret and move half way around the world. I was ready to move half way around the world.

I'm sure you're all wondering what the hell went on in Italy. I'll tell you.

Absolutely nothing.

I spent the day site seeing and touring random areas. I spent the afternoons sitting by Margaret's lavish pool reading Charlotte Bronte and Jane Austin. I spent my nights going to cafés and parks to relax with Justin. Then I would sleep, and then our routine would continue in the same fashion. Day after day. It sounds boring, but I liked it. You never understand the world still turns until you return home and notice life still moved on.

I'd like to think the world would cease to turn in my absence, but this is not the case.

I hadn't seen Arnold since that night. I hadn't seen anyone since the party. I left without a whisper in the air. I feel I was justified to have left without anyone knowing. Who could possible care? I did explain to Arnold, however, that if he found someone who could give him what he deserved to not hesitate and think of me. I didn't want him to think about me.

That's a lie.

I want to know that he yearned for me every day while I sat next to a pool. I want to pretend that he sat in his room, in a corner, waiting for me to return from half across the world. As I said earlier, I want to think his life ceased in my absence.

This is not the case. It is never the case.

"Any messages?" I asked as I walked into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water.

"Nothing good." Miriam said as she smiled at me and went back to looking at the mail. I felt my body tense. You would think someone would have called me. Obviously not. Oh well then.

I looked over at the calendar by the back door and noticed that in a week I was starting school. I rolled my eyes as I took a long sip of the cool water.

"They sent your schedule." Miriam smiled as she gently hit the top of my head and then handed me the envelope. I smirked at her and opened the letter.

Let's see. Honors English, Honors Calculus, World History, Chemistry, Health, Lunch, Gym, and then my electives. Eh, not too bad of a schedule. I hate to say this, but they could give me college work, and I'll pass it without trying. You know how I know. I graduated college early. I don't believe I showed up half the time.

I placed the schedule down on the counter and opened the back door.

"I'm going for a walk." I said.

"I'll order Chinese for dinner!" She shouted from the living room. I looked towards the direction of the living room and then made my way out of the house.

I kind of want to see what everyone's been up too.

(_All you have to do is blink to miss the entire world change_.)

I gently smoothed out my shirt and pushed my hair off my shoulders. I was waiting for someone to open the door to the sunset arms. I was excited to see Arnold. Whether he would be excited to see me is a whole different story.

"Helga!" Stella smiled and gave be a friendly hug. "It's been so long!"

"We went to visit family in Italy." I smiled. Stella nodded her head allowing her smile to become wider.

"Please come in. Arnold went out, but I'd love to hear all about Italy." I walked in and nodded my head.

I'd love to talk all about Italy I thought.

I had been there for an hour. At some point Miles had came in and began listening to my story. He kept giving weird looks to Stella who was seemingly ignoring him. I was in my own world. I had something interesting and happy to talk about, for once. AND there were people to talk to about it.

I heard the front door close and both Stella and Miles turned. They looked almost as if wishing for whoever had come in to not come into the kitchen.

"Mom? Dad? I'm home!" I allowed myself to smile brightly as his voice entered my head. I would be lying if I said I didn't think about him constantly. So I won't lie. I missed him like no tomorrow. "What's going…" He trailed off as he stared at me.

I am a naïve person. I'm not stupid, just lacking the sense of foresight.

"Hey Arnold." I said in a content breath. He looked so _good_. Tanned, maybe even more muscular. He looked perfect in his baggy jeans and black wife beater. His hair was in its usual disheveled look. He looked so perfect. I 'm not saying that I'm ready to fall back into a relationship with him, because I'm not. But he just looks so _good_.

"Helga… hi." He said, his eyes were darting between his parents. I was curious to know why.

"Arnold!"

And that's where the straw that broke the camel's back came into play.

I felt as if everything had froze. I felt there was time to run out before it all fell down again. I felt that maybe no one would notice. Of course these thoughts left as I saw the _perfect_ red head walk into the kitchen. Her green eyes were focused on Arnold and unaware of anyone else. Her hand gingerly slipped into his as she pressed herself closer to him. Her hair was up in a messy bun and she was wearing shorts and a bathing suit top, with a mesh jacket over her olive skin. Her face was lightly sprinkled with endearing freckles. She looked like a movie star that was on vacation. I never noticed how _fitted_ they looked together.

I also never noticed how easily one's heart could break by a _sight_.

A picture _is_, however, worth a thousand words.

"What's wrong?" Her sickeningly sweet voice cooed. She followed his eyes and looked at me. The environment was slowly unfreezing as a cold smirk found itself on her glossy lips.

If I had a gun…

"Hi Lila." This is where the higher power took over. This is where the higher power would be useful. I was currently plotting how to fly between Stella and Miles and strangle her. The higher power was _talking_ to her.

"Helga, how nice to see you!" She said, her tone suggested a _ha_ should follow. But it never came.

"I came over to tell Stella and Miles here about my vacation in Italy." I felt my lips curl in a smile as the higher power took complete control. "I should be going. I'm sure my mom is worrying her head off." I heard a small chuckle from the back of my throat. Outside I was being a _person_, on the inside, let us just thank the gods that you can't get in trouble for your thoughts.

I began walking towards the front door. Moving my body so that I didn't have to come in contact with either of them. I felt contact would set me off in a fury of attacks. There was no contact.

"It was nice talking to you Helga." Stella smiled at me softly. She was apologizing. She didn't have to though. I wanted to tell her this is my own fault. It is my fault. I gave him _permission_ to do exactly what he was doing. Why in god's name would he choose _Lila_? One will never know.

I smiled, nodded, and then walked out the front door. I walked down the block. I began jogging as the high school came into view. By the time I passed the park I was running for dear life.

What's _wrong_ with me?"

(_Ok, so you're confused. Aren't we all? Didn't at least a third of us wake up this morning confused on where we were? I mean in life, not like whose bedroom we were in. That's a different confusion_.)

I know that I am Helga. I know that I had a boyfriend and my sister died. I know that I'm smart enough to pass my classes with little to no effort. I know that if I was to fall off the face of the planet, the world will still turn. I know that it's not _all_ about me. I know that in the end I would regret some things. This is not the problem.

The problem, ladies and gentleman, is that while I went through some mental and emotional twister, everything changed. And suddenly I'm not _just_ Helga, I'm on a social roller coaster, and I'm sitting in the back. My best friend is not _just_ my best friend she's a degree of social royalty and her loyalties are no longer mine. Arnold is not _just_ Arnold; he's part of an elaborate group of people who don't know any further then their world. He's naïve. And Olga is not _just_ dead, she's gone. Not only is she gone, I miss her.

When I was nine, I ruled my grade with a shake of my fist. When I was ten, I was slowly adjusting to life in fifth grade and even opening up. When I was eleven, things at home began to deteriorate, Bob's temper was uncontrollable and Miriam would be gone half the night. When I turned twelve, there was no longer Helga G. Pataki. At twelve all that was left was a body void of soul. Thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen, I was a walking zombie. I talked to as few as possible and began closing myself into a dark place. A very dark place. But I wasn't scared. And now, at the delicate age of _sweet_ sixteen. I have disowned my father, lost my sister, had a boyfriend, dealt with a sickness, attempted to amend ties with Phoebe, and make a relationship with my mother. I tried to adjust the outside and leave the inside in the dark. So now, at sixteen, I am confused on what I'm suppose to be doing. I'm confused on who I'm suppose to be. I don't know if I'm coming or going. Had I not been a walking zombie, this would not have mattered. I don't feel like I can leave my dark place.

I _don't want_ to leave my dark place.

(_It's not the fact that my eyes were closed during that time, it's the fact that they are still closed_.)

I sat in the overly large couch and stared back at Dr. Bliss and her cat like features. I thought it might be useful to talk to someone. I knew that talk was used loosely and there would be very little actual talk.

"Why are you here Helga?" She smiled at me, leaning back in her chair.

"Because you had the afternoon off." I said, that was honestly a stupid question.

"I mean here, on Earth." Slightly better question.

"I don't know." I said, my eyes narrowing, my arms folding over my chest, and my tone defensive.

"Why do you think anyone would put you on such a planet?"

"Because they want to laugh." I said. I felt like curling into a ball. I wanted her to be surprised but she wasn't. She brought her hand to sit gently on her chin. She crossed her legs and looked at me with her cat like eyes.

"But why choose you? I mean, can't anyone make someone else laugh?" She said. I looked at her as if she was speaking a different language. Who the hell in their right mind was giving her money?

"I don't know." I said as I pushed myself closer to the back of the couch.

"Ok." She looked at her notepad and then back up at me. "I don't think you are that funny."

"Thank you." I said dryly. We stared at each other for a few seconds. "Why are you _here_?" I often turn situations like this around.

"Because there are people like you out here." She smiled her cat like smile.

I looked at her. She obviously had practice when it came to this.

"I highly doubt there's anyone else like _me_."

"I'll admit you are more broken then the average teenager, but you still have the same problems that every other hormonal adolescent has."

"Say it." I said. I have this ability to tell when someone has something more to say. I just know there's more. Maybe it's the way they stop the sentence.

"Ok." She placed her hands on her lap. "You are more mentally closed off then most of the teenagers I've ever encountered. You pike my interest every time I talk with you. You might never escape the black hole you created inside your head. That makes me want to enter your head so much more. It's so dark up there; you can't even explain it. I want _you_ to be able to _explain_ it."

I looked at her as I lowered my arms to fall to the sides. I felt extremely vulnerable.

"I can't." I said.

She looked at me and folded her hands on her chest as she smiled her cat like grin.

"That's why I'm _here_."

(_No one ever questions 'why' when they are little. Maybe that's why when they are older it's no longer 'why', but rather 'why not'_.)

Upon my journey home from Dr. Bliss' office I figured out that maybe I was looking at everything from the wrong angle. Maybe I just had to learn to adjust and try to find my place in the outside world.

I mean, that's how it works, right?

"Helga!" Oh jeez.

I turned around and watched the _addiction_ come towards me. He had begun jogging the last few steps and stood over me. His eyes suggested that he was hurt. I guess I don't really care if he's hurt though.

"Yes, football head." I said, I will admit there was quite a bit of venom in my voice. I might have been a little immature when it came to him.

"Look I—"

"If this is about _Li_… Lila." I corrected my tone. I had to play the stronger person. I am not the stronger person but I have to pretend. "It's ok. I mean, I'm ok. I told you if you found someone not to think of me. You did exactly what I told you to do."

"Helga… I didn't mean to do _anything_ it just happened. I mean it's not like Lila and I are even official or anything. It was just…" He trailed off. I felt the pain in my chest erupt. I felt myself begin to slowly shut down. I was waiting for the sobs and the tears to come.

"It was just a summer fling?" My voice broke and I quickly looked away from him. There should be a giant appointment book that we are allowed to use to set dates for situations like this. It would really help the over all public. "And what were we?" I slowly brought my eyes to his. He looked at me with round eyes, green and overly large.

"You wanted a break." He said, calmly. He wasn't trying to blame it all on me. He was simply doing what all human beings do. Trying to be rational.

"You're right, I did." I nodded. It's a cruel irony. "So, that's why I'm not angry." I smiled slightly. I was literally dying on the inside, I could feel my soul suffocate against my chest, but _dammit_, I was smiling on the outside. "I'm… I'm really happy for you." I wiped my eyes. "You and Lila are… cute." I wanted to gag.

"Helga—"

"No. NO." I raised my hand to stop him. "This _is_ my fault, you're right. I'm happy for you guys. I mean, this is how it's suppose to work right? Now, no more nonsense about summer flings and such. I'll see you in school next week."

He looked at me, trying to place together the pieces while we stood on the sidewalk. Little did he know that I was missing a few important parts.

"This isn't good bye." He said. He sounded convincing.

"No, this isn't good bye." He placed his hand on my shoulder and kissed me gently on the cheek.

"I will _always_ be here for you Helga."

"I know that." I nodded. He gently turned around and began walking towards his house. I followed and turned to walk my own long way home.

This wasn't good bye.

This was a dark hello.


	13. It Begins

****

Oh my god. It's been two weeks. I am SO sorry! I didn't even know it had been two weeks. Where the hell did November go? Well… I can't provide a double update, but I can give you an interesting chapter. :) I liked it ::shrugs::. ANYWAY. I hope you enjoy it and I will try my damnedest to get the 14th chapter out by…. This weekend? That sounds possible. I have finals next week… so… yeah I guess this weekend. ANYWAY. I'm so sorry. I've been sick and busy. Life's such a drag. My birthday is coming up :) So... that's exciting. And THANK YOU so much for the reviews. I got many opinions and compliments and everything, and thank you so much. I have cause several people to dislike Arnold… which is NOT my intention. I will probably have a Brainy/Helga… thing… it might be one sided, or it could be mutual. Not sure. And yes I made Lila to be a "villain". This is because I personally don't like her, she annoys me, but yes she might not be _that_ bad of a person. And before we start an "I hate Arnold" club, which my friend is in the process of ::shakes head:: Let me just tell you that Helga _told_ Arnold to _find_ someone. Yes, ok, I made it Lila because she's a character and a _plot line_ that can screw with Helga's overall character and mental health. I also picked Lila because Lila and Arnold have that weird chemistry that they like _being_ with each other. Lila can easy manipulate him (let's be honest the boy is not the sharpest tool in the shed) and Arnold loves getting her attention. It's a take advantage and use type relationship but dammit… it's ok. Arnold didn't betray anyone. He does care for Helga but you know she needs space to find herself and he needs to find _someone_. If you want to be mad at him, however, I will support you :). Next chapter more Brainy/Helga interaction. I have this TOTALLY cute scene planned out. More Helga rebuilding. And more Arnold/Helga fun times :). As usual… I have babbled into an abyss. I am off to go flop on my bed and watch Jerry Maguire now :-D. I hope you enjoy!!!! R&R :)

(_There has always been a time in my life when I have doubted who I was and where I was going. I never understood the idea of happiness. Maybe that's just how it was meant to be_.)

The world is a cruel place. People will walk in and out of your life. Events will be remembered and forgotten. Family and friends are only half of the journey that everyone must endure. The entire idea of life is a harsh and almost _memorable_ experience. Few die happily.

But you knew that.

From the moment my parents laid eyes on me to the moment I _saw_ the world, life never seemed more difficult and prolonged. The saddest part is I never truly did _see_ the world. I never understood most concepts that most people learn from childhood. I don't know what it's like to have your parents teach you to ride a bike, to have your mother kiss a bruise on your knee, to have your father sit you down and _tell_ you he was proud of _you_. My understanding of loyalty and trust have been all but fairytales fed to me by an over bearing older sister, who saw life as an opportunity. Life never gave _her_ an opportunity, but she always gave life the benefit of the doubt. Maybe this is where my problem lies. Within my lack of ability to _give_.

Since I was four I've been in love with the idea of love. Since I was seven I've been insecure and defensive of myself. Since I was nine I was what one would call a bully. And the list goes on. I could point out all my flaws, misdemeanors, and inabilities and still have the notion of putting myself down. I can't take compliments or raw emotion without truly believing there is some alternative motive. The world might be a better place without me.

Not that I matter.

I feel that it's only a matter of time till I go completely out of my mind.

It's no longer about my sister. It's not longer about Bob and his twenty something year old wife. It's no longer about Miriam and her own emotional disabilities. It's not about Arnold, Lila, Phoebe, or Brainy. It's no longer about the world and if it'll keep spinning in my absence. It will. It's about how for the past four years, since I was twelve, my life turned from a greedy nine-year-old to a cynical sixteen-year-old. It's about how I went from an almost carefree life to a suicidal path to a dark abyss. It's about how I went from point A to point B. It's about _me_.

I don't know how to think of _me_.

How am I suppose to suddenly jump back into school? How can I have been someone in May, but not be the same person in September? How do I handle walking down the halls without _him_? I don't know _how_.

That's what _it's_ about.

I wasn't suppose to go on a break with _him_. I wasn't suppose to lose contact with my best friend. I wasn't suppose to push everyone who _cared_ away.

I wasn't suppose to _survive_. But I _did_.

So, how do I get from point B to point C without making a fool of myself?

That's what _life_ is.

(_The whole idea of love is an idealistic fundamental that undermines independence, sanctuary, and the right to eat as much chocolate as your largest size pants will allow_.)

Ah, the first day of school.

I wonder how long it will be until someone gives his or her condolence to my fallen relationship.

"Helga, I'm so sorry about you and Arnold." I smiled slightly and nodded my head to Sheena as I continued down the hall to my locker.

Two minutes and 32 seconds, hmm, sounds like a new record to me.

I reached the tall almost looming gray slab of metal and gently turned the combination. I opened it and inspected the contents. It was a somewhat ideal locker. Not much dust or dirt, a couple of smiley face stickers, a faded 'Jojo loves Bobby', and it had no over powering odor. I believe a smug smile is in order to celebrate such an event. I eyed the area and couldn't stop the smug smiling from becoming wider as I realized I was in the middle of no where. It was much too ideal to be part of _my_ life.

"There's my favorite blonde." I sighed. Here it comes I thought, the new beginning. I turned and looked at the tall boy with the jet-black hair. He was smiling slightly as he leaned against the locker on the right side of mine.

"Hi Brainy." I smiled slightly. I went back to inspecting my locker. What can I say, I have obsessive compulsive tendencies. I heard a chuckle but knew not to make eye contact.

You _never_ make eye contact.

"I guess I should get use to you calling me Brainy."

"I guess." I said as I gently shut the locker. "I only know you as Brainy."

"True, true." He nodded his head. "What's your first class?"

"English, with Simmons." The man followed us from grammar school, to junior high, to high school. He's like an elaborate stalker.

"Me too." He chuckled again.

"Great," I said as he opened the tall oak door and motioned for me to go in first. "I'll have a hang man buddy."

He let out a full laugh this time.

I walked into the classroom and took my usual back of the class seat. I looked around and noted some familiar faces. Not familiar in the sense I've known them since we were kids, more like the other smart kids who make regular appearances in my honor's classes.

Brainy sat next to me and smiled. I looked at the head of the class and noted that there was chattering floating through the air. Nothing as jazzy and gossipy as say the popular's chatter, more like wispy and calming. Intelligent topics being discuss by intelligent people.

It felt almost _relieving_.

"Good morning class!" The class instantly quieted down as eyes turned to look at the scrawny man.

He had _changed_ since fourth grade. He was still bald on top with grays dusted among the blonde hair. He was still lanky and skinny like a stick. He looked easy to break, but I knew he wasn't. He had gotten married in seventh grade. Georgia, I believe was her name. She was a kindergarten teacher and had large oval glasses that took up half her face. She had flowy red hair, with freckles on her cheeks, and hazel eyes. She was skinny and had a little girl with her first husband. She was almost pretty. I'd like to remember her as almost pretty. I had always thought Simmons gay.

Ok, fine, since I was in seventh grade I thought Simmons was gay. Not that there's anything wrong with gay guys. But that's not the point.

I'll forever remember Simmons as the elaborate stalker, who was questioned to be gay, and who married an almost pretty woman.

They should write country songs about him.

"It's such a wonderful day seeing all you bright eyed minds. How special we all are to be in such a class!" He clasped his hands together as if he was tempted to break out into song. You could imagine him skipping through a field of daisies. "I see some _extra_ special faces this morning!"

Oh dear god.

"Helga, Brian, Theodore, how wonderful to have a class with you three!" He was giddy like an infatuated schoolgirl. I was frankly scared.

I looked at Curly, who, with his buzz cut and fogged glasses, looked at Simmons as if the man was on drugs. Which I will go on record and say he probably was. Brainy had a smile on his face. He was amused by our elderly teacher's antics. I was slacked jaw and praying for some type of taboo hand of fate. Like the fire alarm being pulled, or the building catching on fire. Any of these forms of deliverance from evil would _do_.

"Well our first special assignment will be…" I began droning him out as I looked at the blackboard. I wasn't looking _at_ the blackboard, simply getting lost in my own mind. This is how you survive high school. By not mentally being there.

"Sorry about Arnold." I looked to my left and saw Brainy looking at me apologetically.

"Don't be." I mumbled. "I'm not." That's such a lie.

"Uh huh." Brainy said. I glared at him slightly. "His locker is about five away from mine."

"Lucky you." I said. My chin was resting in my hand and my eyes were not looking at him. They were waiting for the trip back to my "special" place. Really it's an unconscious journey through my subconscious problems. Or in normal terms, day dreaming.

"He was with Lila."

"Lucky him." I mumbled.

"You will eventually have to talk about it."

"No I won't." I said it with a sense of fact. I don't have to talk about certain things with certain people. That's what drugs and therapy is for when I'm forty and trying to jump off the PG&E building because I was closed off as a child.

"Uh huh."

I looked at him. I figured that I would no longer be able to hide things any more. I might have talked with a sense of fact. But…

He talked with a sense of _knowing_.

(_I question my sanity. I also question your sanity. We might just be two crazy people talking to each other. But you probably didn't think of that_.)

As the day continued on I found myself being oddly comfortable with my schedule. I actually didn't see that many "bad" people. Other then a quick glance from Rhonda, an awkward minute with Gerald, an even more awkward moment with Phoebe, and a full blown _look_ from Lila, it wasn't such a bad day. Almost ideal.

But remember. Every rainbow had to have rain. If you're me, there's a whopper of a storm brewing. Did I just say whopper? Dear lord, I'm losing my mind.

I remember blinking. That's all. A simple blink. Maybe I held it for a second or two, nothing too drastic. But that's all it took.

I found myself in familiar arms. I remember ramming into something. It was solid but soft. I was waiting to hit the ground in an unholy fashion. But the crash never came. No, I found myself saved by a pair of familiar, comforting arms. And of course my first thought was not 'thank god I didn't fall'. Oh no, my first thought was literally, 'dammit, now I'm gonna have to thank him'.

Yes ladies and gentleman, I _am_ that mentally disabled.

I looked at him. The delicate curve of his jaw. The way his eyes were still warm and comforting. The way his body felt so _perfect_ over mine. _Damn_ him.

We stayed slightly entangled with each other for a few seconds before I pushed away. I looked at the floor and slowly knelt down to pick up my books. I had been heading to lunch and would be late. The halls were empty. Except for him. It seemed almost convenient.

"Sorry." I heard my voice cut through the thick air. "I wasn't paying attention." I had blinked. That's it, that's all.

"No, it's…ok." He said as he picked up one of my notebooks. I stood up and gently took the book from his hand. This is what I get for thinking I could go without my book bag for the day. Two more periods, lunch and History, and I was home free. Damn hand of fate. "Where are you off too?" He cleared his throat, trying to avoid eye contact.

"Lunch." I heard myself answer as I clutched my books close to my chest. I was looking at the floor. This was getting us quite far.

"Me too." I wanted to _inform_ him that I hadn't asked. But my better judgement stopped me.

"That's nice." I said.

"I'll walk you to the cafeteria." He said, scratching the back of his head, trying to decide if this had been a good decision or a bad decision on his part.

"I…um…" I tried to think of an excuse. Other then saying I had to go to the bathroom or turning and running for my life, I wasn't coming up with anything worth saying or doing. I could feel my head nod. Words would do me no justice.

"So…" He trailed off as we begun the two minute forty five second walk to the cafeteria. This may seem like a short time, but it's _not_. It feels like an eternity.

Ironically, the cafeteria always came too soon when I was with him.

"How are your classes?" I said. General topics are most effective in situations like this.

"They're ok. Nothing too bad. You?"

"Same." I nodded. I was going to go through this saying as few words as possible. Twenty actually. I would only say twenty words to him from this point on. Ok so, one, two, three, ok I have said five words, fifteen to go.

"I never got to tell you how great you look." I looked at him. He smiled one of those _nice_ smiles. "Italy did you something good."

Not like you, huh? I thought and then shook my head. "Thank you." Thirteen to go.

"It's so weird, everyone is been giving me their condolences for our relationship. I mean, it's almost funny." He laughed slightly.

I nodded, I might have smiled. Nothing serious, a polite smile if nothing else. "Yeah, me too." Ten.

"Rhonda's having a back to school party." He looked at me.

Oh, that's nice.

"She's inviting everyone." He smiled.

And…?

"So be prepared when she comes around and invites you."

"Doesn't matter, I'm not going." Five.

"Right." He nodded.

Where the hell is the cafeteria? I looked around.

"Where are we?" Two. We were definitely not near the cafeteria.

Arnold looked up and grazed the area. "We've been walking in the wrong direction."

"Oh my god." Dammit, twenty-one.

Dammit, ten minutes late to lunch.

We turned around and began heading in the _real_ direction of the cafeteria.

I guess one could be _amused_ that him and me can still _talk_.

(_One day the world will see you for what you are. Don't be surprise if they don't seem to care. They don't_.)

He was talking about something, Brainy, that is, but I can't quite remember. It had been after school and Brainy had asked to walk me home. I smiled and nodded. Honestly, I didn't want to be left alone.

I'm always alone.

I figured out that I no longer had anyone besides Brainy. Arnold was off being a moron. Phoebe was on some royal trip that didn't involve me in her life. And… well… that's it, isn't it?

I didn't actually miss Phoebe. I should. But I didn't. Maybe it was because she was somewhere else in her life. She was more _adjusted_ then I was. We weren't standing in the same place anymore. One could consider this another phase of life. It was simply reality; it's how the world turns. She knew who she was, where she was going, she had a great boyfriend, she did clubs, and her family was practically ideal. I was not in the vicinity of where she was moving towards.

And that's ok.

And then there was Arnold. Arnold is best described as a confused puppy. Unconditional love and affection, the ability to comfort and help, but can not be left alone. As long as Arnold has comfort, compassion, and even love to give, he must have someone in his life. Arnold is one of those people that needs people. Frankly, people need Arnold just as much as he needs them. I guess I _can't_ be angry with him. He ran to a safety net. Lila would toy with him for a month or so and then toss him aside. He'll then find someone else who will "need" him and stay with them. There's no doubt in my mind that Arnold does _really_ care for me. But as much as I "need" him, I can't learn to survive and find myself with him needing me. I can't be needed. Arnold needs someone to drag to Rhonda's parties, a trophy girlfriend if you will. I don't have what he needs. So maybe it's better that he found himself in the arms of the perfect trophy girlfriend. I won't bring him down.

We knew he could not bring me up.

"You aren't listening." It was said as more of a comment then a question. I looked at the boy with the jet-black hair and smiled a small smile.

"Sorry."

"No need." He smiled as he gently nudged me. "Let me guess… Arnold."

Brava.

"You can't blame me." I sighed.

"I can't blame you." He smiled, shrugging.

I looked at him. He was _different_. He was someone I knew could possibly help me.

"So this Friday Ms. Lloyd is having a _fabulous_ party." He smiled broadly.

"You were invited?" I asked, somewhat surprised.

"Darling, I'm the quiet _cool_ guy in the back of the class. I'm _Brian_. Of course I was invited." I laughed. He was too dramatic for words. "Since obviously you would not be caught dead there, I figured I'd take you out. Keep your mind off of _things_." He was referring to Arnold.

"Like a date?" I asked. I wanted to hit myself.

He laughed. "Only if you want it to be a date. But it's a really great place, somewhat dark, quiet, barely any _real_ social interactions. They have terrific coffee." He smiled.

It actually sounded like a "me' friendly place.

I must admit, I need to start putting together the puzzle pieces that is _me_.

I looked at him and nodded.

"Ok."

"Great!" He smiled.

I guess that this is the start to the whole rebuilding process.

Fun.


	14. A kiss is just a kiss

****

A/N: I know, I know… where the hell have _I_ been? You don't want to know, it is _that_ bad. Not like, bad, bad. Just stressed out, busy, I need to drop off the face of the world for a few weeks, bad. But I digress. I am _super_ sorry about taking forever. I wrote this, my goodness, weeks ago, but I hated it so I tried re-writing it. I hated all of those. So, here I am, the orginal chapter in tow, ready to post and whatnot. Once again… there _will_ most likely me grammical and spelling mistakes, I am sorry in advance. I will have to keep this short, but I am very sorry in advance and I will try and update by… oh… maybe by the 15th of Jan. At least chapter 15 cause I have that almost done. Ok, well, hope you enjoy, I tried :(. R&R and… GO!

(_When I close my eyes I see you. When I see you I want to be with you. When I'm with you I don't want to leave. If I don't want to leave, how can I survive_?)

I stared at the ceiling as tears rolled down the sides of my face. I had almost forgotten what it felt like to sleep alone. To not be in his arms. To not feel his breath on my neck. To not be _near_ him. I had almost learned to _live_.

Now I simply miss him.

It was already Thursday; I'm not sure how it happened. I guess life moved along. My week wasn't so bad; I didn't do or say anything that could cause affliction. And other then a sad smile or a short wave I had limited my time with _him_ as much as possible. However, I couldn't help but _need_ him.

Ok, maybe I didn't _need_ him, but I _wanted_ him. I wanted him a lot. Maybe it's because I was so use to him. Maybe it's because I'm not strong enough to get through this alone. Maybe it's because I'm psychotic and need some good drugs. Ok, so the last one is a little out there. But come on! It's been a hard road to walk.

I looked at the clock to the side of the bed. It was one in the morning. I couldn't find sleep. I rolled over and faced my window.

I missed him so _much_.

Logically, any _normal_ person would, perhaps, get a glass of water or some milk. They would say their prayers and go to sleep. But _no_. I have to be miss _unique_.

I found myself standing in the middle of his room. I was praying to some higher being that Lila would not be here. As I got closer to the bed I noticed that she wasn't there. A quick thank you to the ceiling was in order.

It's odd. After two days we were sleeping in the same bed. They have been going out for, what, like two and a half months? That _sounds_ right. Oh who cares.

I sat on the edge of his bed and gently watched his chest move up and down. The way his hair fell over his face. How he liked so _perfect_ just sleeping soundly. I love him.

"Helga?" I locked eyes with him and smiled slightly.

"Hey you." I whispered. He closed his eyes and smiled contently.

"What are you doing here?"

"I missed you." I smiled as I pushed some hair off his face. "I missed you so much."

I felt the need to cry.

"I missed you too." He smiled and gently moved so that he was slightly raised on his elbow/pillow.

"I'm sorry, about everything."

"Don't be." And he gently placed his hand on my cheek and brought his lips to mine.

I would be lying if I said this wasn't want I've wanted since I got back "home".

I smiled as his scent intoxicated my senses, as his kiss drove my mind into over drive. I deepened the kiss, pushing him onto the bed.

I forgot how _good_ it _felt_ to be with him. His arms around me, his lips on mine.

It was almost too good to be true.

Maybe because it wasn't true.

My lungs seemed to deflate quickly as I sat up and began inhaling for air. My face was covered in sweat and the clock next to the bed read three fifteen. I looked around as my whole being calmed down.

I closed my eyes and fell back into the bed. I stared at the ceiling as I tried to remember what he smelt like and how he tasted. I couldn't though. Everything about him was lost to me. His taste, his scent, his touch, everything was gone. I _missed_ him.

I rolled over and tried to will myself back to sleep.

The worst part was that had been the first _dream_ I had in years.

But if you think about it, it was more of a nightmare then a dream.

Go figure.

(_Sometimes I imagine you're still here. But when I look around you're gone. When they ask if I'm ok, I think of you, and I tell them I'm fine_.)

I was sitting at my lunch table with Curly, Eugene, Patty, and Brainy. I would like to refer to our table as something that is socially acceptable. But the only people at this table who are considered sociable attributes are Brainy and Eugene. Curly and Patty are only a few hairs higher then me on the social scale.

Kudos to me.

"So, all set for tonight?" I looked over to Brainy. Crap. I forgot about our non-date date. However, I can play this off cool.

"All set." I smiled, secretly deciding all the little details I should have thought about earlier in the week. Like, you know that entire typical girl crap.

"Totally forgot, didn't ya?" He smirked. I loathe him.

"Yes." I sighed, going back to pushing my salad around. "But I am excited."

"Now?" He is such a pain in the ass.

"Yes now." I repeated.

"I'll pick you up around seven." He shook his head, while smiling, and then went back to talking to Curly about the polar ice caps. I believe I need to find myself new company. But I won't.

"Brian! There you are!" I looked to see the ever being social princess standing at my table.

"Rhonda, baby, so good to see you." Brainy smirked.

"You're coming to my back to school party, right?" She gave an award winning smile (no, really, she won an award in seventh grade for having the prettiest smile. Her mother was a sponsor for the whole thing) and winked at him.

"You know I _want_ too." My god, he's as good with undertones as _they_ are. "But I have previous plans that I just _can not_ break."

"Oh, but Brian!" Rhonda whined. I felt my eyes roll.

"Sorry princess." He pouted slightly and then looked over at me. He winked and went back to eating his sandwich.

"Promise you'll come to the next party?" It was Rhonda's turn to pout.

"You know I will." He smiled. This seemed to please Rhonda, because she ruffled his hair and then went about her merry little way.

"I see that you are part of their social conduct." I said, eyeing Brainy carefully.

He looked up with his hazel eyes, big and clear. He smiled as he ran his hands through his thick, long black hair. "I'm not part of anyone's group sweetie. I'm just Brian."

It was at this moment that I realized that Brainy was not just _my_ Brainy. He was the _world's_ Brian.

I could get use to this.

(_"It just happened" is the most advanced lie anyone could tell you. Because at some level, it's not a lie_.)

Sometimes I lye awake in bed, staring at the walls, the ceiling, or the window, and I think, "is this all". Life is supposed to be this roller coaster of adventures, journeys, self-discovery, and all that other crap. However, you must admit, there are times where you find yourself alone, bored, doing nothing besides losing your mind. And then what? What is the right thing to think? "Is this all?" seems to be a general question.

No, I'm not getting all psychological and mystical on you, I'm just kind of looking around and noticing that _this_ is all that's left. There are no second chances with this game. You win some, you lose some, and then you die. Dying is neither winning nor losing; dying is simply the way your book ends. I have some inkling that dying will not be the way my book ends. How, you may ask, I don't know.

I miss Arnold.

That's it. That is what it comes down too. I know that if I harp on him I'll never move on. It's interesting. If I'm with him I can't move on and if I'm not with him I can't move on. That's a conundrum ladies and gentlemen. Either way I'm screwed. Lucky me, right?

I looked at the clock and noticed that it was five fifty seven. I sighed as I got off my bed. I assume I should try and look halfway decent for my non-date date with Brainy.

Whether I miss Arnold or not, he's not _here_.

Brainy is though.

I think I like that.

(_I've been wishing every night for an answer to my prays. And every morning I wake up to the same routine. I might be wishing on the wrong star_.)

It was a club of sorts. There was soft music, low lights, and tons of kids. There was a bit of a beatnik atmosphere with a taste for funk. I looked around at all the different kids. Skinny, fat, medium; black, white, Hispanic; blue, pink, red, brown, blonde hair; it was like a collage of nameless faces. I'd be lying if I said I didn't like it.

"What do you think?" I turned to see Brainy smiling at me; his arm was loosely around my shoulders. He had worn black dress pants and a button down blue shirt, it was open exposing the black wife beater he had on under it.

"It's… fantastic." I smiled as I looked around. I was wearing a pair of black pants with a silver-chained belt and a white turtleneck. It was pretty cold in September, and it was the perfect temperature in here.

"I'm glad you like it." He whispered close to my face. I couldn't help but smile.

"What's a bum like you, doing with a goddess like her?" I turned to see a boy with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes smiling at Brainy and me.

"She agreed to come with me." Brainy and the boy high fived each other.

"She must have something loose if she wanted to be with you." He turned to me and smiled. "My name's Thomas, Tommy if you want. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He gently took my hand and kissed it lightly.

"Helga." I smiled.

"Ah, a strong, beautiful name for such a strong, beautiful creature." I might have giggled, I'm not sure. There were too many compliments being thrown at me.

"I thought she'd enjoy it in here." Brainy said, his arm still comfortably around my shoulders.

"She'll love it. Ty is looking for you." Tommy took a sip of his water.

"Why?" Brainy asked. It was all very casually but I was curious to know what they were talking about.

"I don't know." Tommy shrugged and then began waving wildly. "Got to go, Tabby looks murderous."

I watched as he left and turned to looked at Brainy.

"Who's Ty and Tabby?"

"Ty would be my older cousin who works here and Tabby would be Thomas' girlfriend." Brainy smiled as he led me over to the bar.

"What can I getcha ya?" I looked at the girl who was looking down at some books but talking to us.

"I don't know." Brainy smiled brightly. "Maybe a nice Pink Panther."

The girl looked up and smiled brightly.

"B!" She practically jumped over the counter flinging her arms around Brainy, who was clearly enjoying it.

"How's it hanging?" He said once she let go.

I looked at her. She was about my height, tanned, and _pretty_. She wasn't like Rhonda or Lila pretty, she was just _pretty_. She had soft honey colored eyes that looked as if they were painted on. There were specks of caramel and brown detailed into the honey coloring. She had short hair that flipped off her face and moved ever so slightly with her body. The best part was her hair was dyed a light pink and made her look almost spyish. She was wearing a tight, sleeveless red vest with a pair of black jeans and black boots. She had on silver jewelry with red and pink stones as charms.

I wonder who she is.

"Helga this is Tyler." I smiled and reached out my hand. She gently shook it.

"I know what your thinking. How the hell can _I_ be related to _him_?" She smiled and then laughed. She had a really _pretty_ laugh.

"It's so nice to meet you." I heard myself say.

"Oh wow, such a sweetheart." She smiled at Brainy and then reached over the bar. "I'm taking a break!"

"FINE!" I looked to see a short man with thin hair shake his head as he went back to making drinks.

"Anyway!" She smiled as she began walking towards the back of the club. There were couches and big comfy chairs as you passed a curtain. This place was large and mysterious. She sat on one of the couches and relaxed. "I have had the longest ten hours of my life!"

Oh great, she's as dramatic as Brainy. I see the family resemblance.

"What you do?" Brainy said as he sat on the love seat perpendicular to the couch.

"Classes, had to take grandma to the airport, had to take Marci to dance, then I had to drive all the way to see Candy and Geoffrey, and now work! I tell you B, it's a mad world outside this place." Wow, she was a very busy person. She could be more then _my_ age, how can she do so much?

"How old are you?" I asked. My curiosity was boiling.

"Twenty." She shook her head as if twenty was a horrible age. I looked her over. It had to be doing something right for her. "I can't wait to get done with this semester."

"It just started Panther." Brainy smirked.

"Shut up." She waved him off tiredly.

"I love the pink hair." I smiled.

"Thank you!" She said excitedly. "I had lighter hair then yours and then one day I just went to my friends house, drank some Dr. Pepper, and before I knew it began sporting the pink hair." She laughed.

"You're mom must have been thrilled." I smiled. She laughed and waved it off.

"My mom walks around with purple streaks in her hair. She's thirty six and still acts sixteen." Wow.

"My aunt is a child at heart."

"She's a teenager at heart, don't let him fool you." She smiled. "So, what's going down with you guys?"

"Nothing, just getting out." Brainy smiled.

"Uh huh. You spend the majority of your weekend here."

"I didn't say we were going _anywhere_." I smiled. They had an extremely close relationship. They were like brother and sister. It was a sweet sentiment.

"Oh crap." She looked at her watch and smiled at us. "I better get back on shift. Want anything to drink?"

"Soda." Brainy smiled. Both sets of eyes turned to look at me.

"Water is fine." I smiled.

Tyler smiled and nodded and then walked back through the curtain, into the sea of people.

"She's sweet." I smiled as I moved from the arm of the love seat to next to Brainy.

"Thanks." He smiled as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

I leaned in closer to him.

I never knew how _good_ he smelt.

(_I know things. I'm not the same girl from grammar school. I haven't seen the same things as you. I'm not the same girl you knew. But I know. I know a lot more now. Are you scared yet_?)

We had spent an hour at the club of sorts. We had stayed in the back area and just _talked_. I've decided that talking isn't as bad as I made it out to be. It's not bad at all really. Maybe it's because with Brainy, I don't have to talk that much. I don't have to explain myself. He _knows_. He knows what I'm about to say, how I meant it, and how I _feel_ about it.

It's almost amazing.

I forgot what it was like to be able to talk without _talking_. Maybe I didn't forget. Maybe I didn't know.

"So, I told her, Rhonda, baby, darling, puh-lease get over yourself. And she laughed and waved me off. I was like, what the hell?" He began laughing. I think I laughed too, but that's not important.

I'm not sure what's important, but that's not it.

I looked at his soft eyes and felt my lips curl up slightly. There is something about him that I just can't get out of my mind. He's like my replacement Arnold. If that makes any sense _at all_.

It's weird. You think that the world has turn it's back on you. You lose friends, you lose family, you lose yourself, and everything you have ever thought just doesn't fit right. And then, like a dream, you meet this _person_. This _human being_ that just makes up for every jerk and moron you've ever met. They make up for everything bad that has happened to you, everything that tried to destroy you. They are your _hope_. Granted, I'm not one to believe in hope, I'm not one to believe in anything. But then, I look at him. His soft eyes, that face, that hair, that smile, and I believe that maybe it'll get better.

Don't get me wrong, it was suppose to get better with Arnold. It was suppose to be different with Arnold. Plans don't always go the way you expect them too. Quite thee contrary, they go astray. This is what life is all about, however. That is how you _live_.

I like him, Brainy that is. It's simply that. I do like him, I think he's a wonderful person, and he might just _save_ me. He _knows_ things. He knows things that I don't know. That no one else knows. I don't know _how_ he knows, but he knows.

I think he likes me. There's a chance he likes me. I guess it's hard to believe someone can honestly like me. I mean, I want someone to like me, but this isn't always the case. Arnold was different, he liked me, he might have even loved me, but Arnold doesn't _know_. Arnold can't _see_.

So how can Brainy see?

"Are you listening?" I looked over at him. I could feel the guilt wash over my face. I had no clue what he was talking about. "It's ok, I've been ranting and raving for what seems like forever _anyway_. You talk."

Is he joking?

"I don't think I have anything else to say." I smiled and leaned back into the couch.

"Oh come on. There must be something you want to say." He nudged me slightly.

"Um… no." I smirked.

"No cynical view of life? No bad remark on how the girls of this generation are sluts? No gushing over the bain of your existence?"

"Arnold?" Arnold had proven to be a sore spot for Brainy. Not only was he a sore spot but he was something Brainy tended to use as an icebreaker. I assume it's because Arnold was _that_ important in my life.

"Are there any other bains of your existence?" He smirked.

"I don't want to talk about Arnold." I sighed and looked at him. He had amazing eyes. Hazel, that turned different colors at different times. Blue, green, and then sometimes just resting at Hazel. It's funny that I notice this. I thought I had forgotten what details were.

"Then what do you want to talk about?" His face was close to mine. I could feel his breath on my neck.

"Nothing." I whispered as I turned my head slightly. He had a smirk on his lips and laughter in his eyes. He looked _perfect_.

I had forgotten what _perfection_ was.

I leaned in closer and allowed my lips to rest softly on his. The ball was in his court. It didn't take long for his lips to give in. It didn't take long for him to wrap his arms around me.

It didn't take long for the guilt to wash over my body as I allowed my self to be taken in by his taste.

Dammit.

Where the hell do I go from _here_?


	15. Highly active imagination

I don't know what I wrote, I don't know what my "inspiration" was for this chapter, I just don't know. So… hmm… this chapter is… weird? Odd? Awkward? Just, go with it. Because, as usual, I don't what the hell my logic was. Chapter 16, I _promise_ will be better. I don't know when Chapter 16 will be out, but it'll be… better. Or, well, less like the confusing thing, this chapter is. To be perfectly honest, the story is slightly based on my own life. And well, currently, my life is a little messy. So, I just hope you can bare through the messiness :). Enjoy!

(_The countryside is beautiful this time of year. Too bad it doesn't last_.)

I thought that the _kiss_ was the beginning of the end. I thought, "here we go, another disaster waiting to happen". I figured it wasn't long before the world had another reason to include me in its way of life.

But I was wrong.

It had been 3 days, eight hours, and forty-five minutes since the _kiss_. I won't sit here and tell you it was a horrible kiss and I am now turned off from kissing until the day I die. Quite the contrary. It was one of the most amazing kisses of my life. For the record, I have only kissed two guys. Even my first kiss with Arnold was _nothing_ compared to my first kiss with Brainy. _Nothing_.

This doesn't mean that I like Brainy better then Arnold, nor does it mean that I have forgotten Arnold. Merely, it was an amazing kiss.

Now, you see, I'm confused.

Of course Brainy has still called me and still talks to me every chance he gets. But he hasn't brought up the kiss, hasn't mentioned the emotions, and hasn't even assumed to suggest that I enjoyed it. It's like it never happened. Granted, I have been known to make up situations that have never happened. I have a _highly_ active imagination. Some call it a gift. I tend to think of it as personality default.

Let's digress.

Anyway, I don't know anymore. Well, I've never really _known_. But, you get the idea.

, I don't know anymore. Well, I've never really . But, you get the idea. 

I'm babbling quite nicely.

I need to calm down and revert to the girl who _doesn't_ give. I need to get back to the dark place and sit there for a little while. I need too—

"Hey babe."

That bastard.

I turned around and smiled as Brainy gave me a quick hug and a peck on the cheek.

"You are looking quite ravishing today."

"Thanks." I smiled as I continued to pull books from my locker.

"Rhonda is having another party this Friday. The girl ceases to amaze me. She is insisting I go. Would you mind?"

I have no actually reason to mind. Brainy and me are just _friends_ not only are we just friends, I'm not suppose to _care_.

"Why would I mind?" I smiled and looked at him.

"Ok, I won't go." He smirked and then proceeded to close my locker and lean against it.

"No, I don't care. You can go." I shrugged.

"Uh huh. I see."

"You know, shut up." I smirked and began walking faster then him.

He was a good six or more inches then me and found himself keeping up with my brisk pace easily. I turned to stick my tongue out at him when I found myself colliding with someone.

This time no one caught me.

"Are you ok?" I looked a Brainy who was instantly kneeling besides me and then up at the blonde haired boy. He looked slightly guilty and uncomfortable. I didn't figure out why until I saw the red haired girl standing next to him.

"I'm sorry." He said guiltily.

"Are you ok?" Brainy repeated as a whirlwind of _things_ flew around my mind.

"I'm fine." I heard a voice say. It took me a few seconds but I realized I was speaking through the situation. I was _talking_.

"Are you sure?" Arnold said, helping Brainy help me. I gently shoved Arnold off a little as I leaned into Brainy. I didn't want to lean into Brainy but it had been a hard fall. Or maybe I'm just making excuses.

"I'm fine." I repeated as I dusted myself off. Lila was frowning slightly, as if she had been worried, but her eyes held a smirk. A very proud, "haha" type of smirk.

"We better get to class." Brainy gave a half smile and then began pulling me towards the classroom. This wouldn't have been so bad if Arnold hadn't grabbed my arm.

"Wait, you don't look ok, maybe you should go to the nurse's office."

"Thank you. But I'm fine." I mumbled.

"We'll see you later." Brainy said slightly up beat.

"Helga." I turned and looked at those green eyes. Those big, worried eyes. I could feel myself slipping. His hair was slightly over his forehead; his lips were drawn in a straight ling. He looked at me almost longingly.

Then again, I do have a highly active imagination.

Maybe, just this once, he might have missed me. He might have wanted me.

"I'm _fine_." I gently nudged Brainy to the side and turned my head so I could only see forward.

I then began walking briskly forward.

I had to go _forward_.

(_It's not the looking back I'm having issues with, it's looking back and seeing you that has me worried_.)

I sat on the bench in the park. My eyes were filled with unshed tears. I had shed _enough_ tears, for _anyone_.

Maybe I should have shed them for _myself_.

I don't know what had gotten to me. I don't know what had been said or done to have me skip school. I felt the need to salvage myself. Not that I know how to salvage myself. I can't have the knight on the white horse and I can't save myself, I'm pretty much screwed.

The irrational thing here, is that I know that guys do _like_ me. I have had guys, in the past, like me like _that_. None of them acted upon it, but I do know they did _like_ me. But now, here I am, sitting by myself, trying to figure it _all_ out.

I hate this. I'm going to end up alone, with like fish or something, and I know this. I can't imagine myself with _anyone_. Maybe I could have never imagined myself with Arnold. Maybe that's another figment of my imagination. Maybe Brainy is a figment of my imagination. I want him to like me like that. I want to believe that he thinks about me the way I've been thinking about him. I want to know that he secretly does stupid little things just to see me smile or just to see my eyes light up. I want him to _want_ me, the way I want _him_.

Where the hell did all this _come_ from? When the _hell_ did I begin liking him? What the _hell_?

When did I start liking him like _this_? Wasn't it only weeks ago that my mind was clouded with thoughts of Arnold? Wasn't it mere months ago I was swearing off love? Hasn't it been a lifetime of misery and pain? Do I honestly deserve to have to go through the whole crap of crushes, infatuations, and love?

"It just happened", might be my only defense. And "it'll get better, eventually" can't even describe the anguish I'm going to go through until all of this is settled.

So, when does the sun finally begin shinning down on me?

Then again, I don't think I'm ready to come in from the rain.

(_I watch him watch me. And I know there's something there, but I can't tell for sure. And I want to believe he harbors feelings for me but I don't know. All these stupid games are killing me. And I can't tell if it's really happening, or if I'm imagining it all_.)

"The school called." I looked up to see my mother sitting on the couch with a bunch of papers spread around her.

"I skipped." I sighed as I dropped my book bag in the hall and leaned against the doorframe.

"I told them you felt sick and that you stayed home." She smiled softly at me. "I must admit that I don't necessarily mind you not going to school here or there, but you have to at least tell me in advance."

"Thanks." I smiled as I leaned my head against the doorframe. "I just… I'm just a little too confused to have to think academically."

"I see." She smiled and leaned back into the couch. "Does it have to do with the boy who took you out on Friday?"

"Yeah." I sighed.

"You want to talk about it?"

"Not really, at least not right now. I'm too wound up to express it to real people." She nodded and smiled brightly.

"Whenever your ready."

"I know." I smiled and then turned around, slowly making my way to my bedroom.

I need to learn to save myself. I don't how long it's gonna take for Prince charming to come to my rescue. I still do believe in prince charming, I am that pathetic. I _need_ to pretend that I have a knight on a white horse coming to save me from myself. I _want_ the fairytale. I may not seem like a person who would _want_ it. But I _do_.

I never had the fairytale as a child; I _deserve_ to have it now.

I deserve the _happily ever after_.

I deserve to at least _know_ if he really does like me. I don't even think I care who _he_ is.

I _know_ that Brainy likes me. I don't necessarily care if he _loves_ me. I'm not ready for _love_. I just need to be _sure_ he likes me. Because I have figured out that I do _like_ him. I don't know why, whether it's because he's a decent human being or if it's because I know he does _like _me. Or well, I assume he likes me. There's a slim chance he likes me. I'm babbling.

He makes me babble.

Excuse me as I go bang my head against a wall.

What happened to Arnold though? I do love him. But, I don't seem to _care_.

No, I do care. I think I care. I still dream about him. I still want to touch him, to feel him, to taste him. Only now, I want to feel Brainy, I want to talk with Brainy; I want to _taste_ Brainy.

So, please, tell me, what the hell is wrong with me?

This is where not having any girl pals really sucks.

Well, now that I have confused myself to new levels of confusion I will just go sleep. Sleep sounds good. You can't get hurt with sleep.

Sleep is _salvation_.

(_The problem is not that no one feels for me. The problem is I personally can not fathom anyone feeling for me_.)

"Are you ok?" I turned and found myself looking into a pair of soft green eyes. I was lost for a moment, but quickly found the strength to turn back around to my locker.

"Yes, I'm ok." I said, pulling and pushing books in and out of my locker.

"I guess we can't help but bump into each other." He chuckled.

"I guess we can't." I whispered.

"Helga, please, I don't want to lose you. At least not farther then this."

I closed my eyes and tightened my grip on the book I was about to bring out of the locker. I wish I had some witty response to tell him. I wish there was something I could say that could revert time. Something that could _fix_ this.

Where the hell did it _change_?

"You aren't losing me." I turned and looked at him. I might have been holding back a few tears, but I feel justified to hold back tears. "We're just… going separate ways. It best be now then later."

"No." He took a hold of my arm and shook his head. "I _miss_ you, Ok? Is that what you need to hear? I am the biggest moron in the world. I am the stupidest male that has ever walked this good earth. I'm not worthy to be _with_ you." Am I dreaming?

"Arnold, I…" I didn't know what to say. Where the hell was all of this coming from?

"I… I'm sorry." He began shaking his head. "You don't need this."

I remember opening my mouth and then closing it, and then reopening it. I closed my eyes tightly.

"I don't need this." I opened my eyes to see him nodding and smiling sadly.

"I know." He gently let go of my arm and proceeded to turn around. He stopped, however, and looked at me once more. "I'm sorry."

I watched as he walked away and leaned against my locker.

"Yeah, me too."

(_The three most damaging words, when placed next to each other, in the English language are love, you, and I. They can make or break you. No one gets over a broken heart_.)

Guys suck.

That's as simple as it is. Guys suck. Maybe not all guys, but the majority. At least this is how I perceive it. Not only do guys suck, people suck. If I had any kind of a rational head on my shoulders I would move to Nevada and live in the desert where I could be alone, twenty-four/seven, three hundred and sixty five days. It seems almost ideal.

And yes, I am very much well aware that moving to Nevada to live in solitude is not rational, but you learn not to get hurt when your alone. You learn to not care, there's no one around for you to care about. Though you may live a boring, unfulfilled heartache of a life. You must admit; the idea of never getting hurt again is quite fulfilling.

But then again, this is why I see a therapist once a month. I think I need to up the sessions. Maybe once a week.

Maybe I should just get over this idealistic dream of Arnold and concentrate on figuring out what the hell I'm doing here. Lord knows I don't have a clue what my purpose is.

So, get over Arnold and concentrate on myself, allow Brainy to enter my life, move forward. Seems like a busy list of 'things to do'.

Where do I start though?


	16. Childhood Playgrounds

Don't get too excited, this is a transition chapter. I actually like it, a lot. It lets you see Helga and the gang _before _all the crap I put them through :). It's a nice Looking into her world, type chapter. And in my humble opinion (considering I think everything I write is never up to par) it came out pretty good, for a transition chapter at least. So, ok, I have no idea where I'm actually taking the story, but hopefully it won't take very long. And thank you for all the reviews:) You guys are simply the best :). Me and the happy faces, jeez, haha. Enjoy!

(_Sometimes it seems completely forbidden, to discover those feelings we kept so well hidden_.)

I walked down the stairs rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I couldn't believe it was Saturday, nor could I believe that it was already early November. It seemed like the months were flying by. Which is good, I guess, welcoming almost.

Nothing major had happened in the span of a month and a half (if not more). I was still Helga, quiet to all but a few. Brainy still took me out, hung out with me, acted like a true friend. You need at least one true friend in the course of thewar that is high school. I had become closer to Eugene and Curly, and had even hung out with Patty. I was becoming a person. How clichéd.

I walked through the living room to get to the kitchen, when I noticed my mother sitting on the couch. She was smiling as she stared, glued to the television screen. My eyes followed hers as they landed on a small blonde child, waving excitedly to the camera.

"Look at me Grandpa!" My jaw hit the floor.

"Is that...?" I couldn't even finish the sentence.

"Yeah, the summer before you started preschool. We had gone up to Grandpa's ranch." Miriam smiled as the blonde child rushed around the yard.

Suddenly, a skinny girl, long blonde hair that was swept into a ponytail, came riding towards the camera. She looked about fourteen. She had a pretty complexion and a brilliant smile.

I felt my eyes stay on her every movement as the camera followed her.

"How am I doing Grandpa?" She asked, her voice sugary and confident.

"Brilliant my lovely Olga, brilliant." Her smile widened as she began trotting around the yard.

"Can I go on a pony?" The camera focused on the smaller child once again.

"You are much too young my little firefly." And elderly woman came and swooped the little girl into her arms. "But soon you'll be riding the trails as well, if not better, then your sister."

"Really?"

"Really, really!" And then there was a laugh as the camera faded into static.

Miriamstopped the tape and began rewinding it.

"He died two weeks after we left." She said slowly, sadly.

"I remember." In truth I really didn't, this was fourteen odd years ago. I was three or four at the time. I remembered the ranch, and Olga racing through the trails that wove in and out of the ranch. I remembered Bob didn't come with us and Miriam was mainly in bed, sometimes drunk, sometimes with a hang over. I don't remember Grandpa dying. And I don't remember him even seeming the slightest bit sick.

"He was such a good man. I'm happy you two got to spend time with him in his last few weeks of life." This is a bit morbid.

"Where did you find that tape?" I asked, coming around the couch and sitting next to her.

"We have a cabinet filled with family tapes and photo albums." She said, sounding surprised that I didn't know. Or worst, I had forgotten. "I'm going to go put up some coffee. Go look through the cabinet, pick out a few good ones." She smiled and stood up, heading towards the kitchen.

A few good ones? Ok then. In all honestly, we had a bastard for a father and a drunk for a mother. I could only _imagine_ what the hell these tapes were going to be like.

I walked over to the cabinet and knelt down. Row by row was tape after tape. Birthdays, holidays, vacations, all lined up and labeled. Once you got to the bottom there were about five or six thick photo albums, a baby book for both me and Olga, and then random family albums. I was to say the least shocked. Parents like mine, did not know how to do things like this.

I skimmed the labels of the tapes and pulled out a couple of birthdays, some vacations, and one of the family albums. As I was closing the cabinet door my eyes caught a tape called 'second wedding'. I know for a fact my parents never got remarried, so I was confused.

I pulled the tape out and popped it into the VCR. I wanted to see who was getting remarried.

There was a little static as the tape began but soon standing in front of the camera was the gang of P.S. 118; Phoebe, Gerald, Arnold, Rhonda, Nadine, Sid, Harold, Stinky, Lila, Brainy, Curly, Sheena, Eugene, and me. We were in front of a large church, all in our best dressed. Phoebe was smiling widely, brighter then everyone else. I was on her right, while everyone simply surround around us. Slowly I began to remember the day.

It was Phoebe's parent's second wedding, we had all been invited. Phoebe was simply glowing that day. You don't get better parents then Phoebe's parents. You just don't.

Miriam came in and leaned against the back of the couch, watching in silence as the ceremony proceeded, flawlessly. My eyes were glued to the screen. They were so _happy_. Both her parents were smiling brightly. Eyes slightly watered, hands clasped tightly together. Phoebe was even tearing up a bit.

The reception was much more enjoyable. We, the gang, were playing, laughing, talking, we were being kids. There was a shot of Rhonda; she was flashing the camera a brilliant smile as she flipped her hair. Nadine soon came into the shot and they hugged and performed for the camera. Sid came up behind them and put two little bunny ears behind their heads. He then rushed over to high-five me. I assume I had been the brains of the bunny ears.

It was the summer after sixth grade. Before everything began happening. It was almost the calm before the storm I suppose.

The camera focused on Arnold as he said how happy he was for Phoebe and here parents. How he couldn't imagine a more beautiful ceremony. The camera then focused on Gerald, Phoebe, and me who were sitting and leaning against a small bleacher that was in the gardens. Phoebe was clapping slightly and Gerald was rolling his eyes. I watched carefully as he looked over to me, behind Phoebe's head and shook his head, rolling his eyes. I watched as I began laughing and nodding. Phoebe turned and looked at me, I saw myself shrug and then smirk to Gerald.

During the cake cutting/eating portion of the afternoon, Sid came over and stuffed a piece into my mouth. I began yelling at him and began chasing him around the tables and the thin tents. The camera focused on Harold and Stinky who were laughing hysterically. While the camera was still in focus on them, two pieces of cake went flying across the screen, landing on Stinky's jacket, and Harold's face. I could hear my own laughter in the back round as the camera focused on me sitting on Sid.

There were shots of everyone (the adults) laughing, dancing, talking, and complimenting. Shots of the happy groom and bride. But the major focus of the reception was on us, the gang. I watched with open eyes and a steady heart as we laughed and socialized. How I interacted and behaved like them. How we were _friends_. How before the sickness, the late night coughing fits, the guilt, the pain, the unbearable wall I created so I could survive, I had been one of _them_.

The summer before we entered junior high, before we had to grow up, before hard classes, big parties, fashion dos and don'ts, before our circles began opening, we were the bratty group of P.S. 118. I wasn't just Helga; I was Helga the bully, Helga the jokester, Helga the Queen of pranks and pulls. They were all my _friends_.

The camera soon focused on Arnold smiling pleasantly at the camera. And in a heartbeat I was suddenly running at him and then onto his back. By sixth grade the boys had all shot up and was taller then the majority of the girls. Granted, once we all hit high school we were all different shapes and sizes.

I watched as Arnold began laughing as I held on to his neck tightly. His arms went around his back to support me as I began to shout how I was Helga, the magnificent. The camera panned to Phoebe who was laughing hysterically as Gerald grabbed her around the waist and began tickling her. They both ended up falling over. Which in turn, as the camera panned back to Arnold and me, made us laugh and fall over. Sid quickly rushed to my side and helped me up, declaring himself my hero. I promptly hugged his neck and threw my hand over my forehead and exclaimed "Thank goodness for my knight in shining armor!"

As the camera panned around I watched as we laughed at the whole thing. How our laughter blended together. How it wasn't the boys on one side and the girls on the others. How we all just meshed into another, laughing and joking and being ourselves. Which if you think about it, was being with each other.

I had begun to enter their world, on a higher level then being their bully, the summer after fourth grade, after we had "saved the world". I had two years of feeble fun and exciting games. We didn't care about anything other then each other and ourselves. But that's how it works when you stay with the same group of kids since you were three. Junior high made us divide, but not as much, because there were only three public schools joining in each of the junior highs. High school was where we all collided. High school was the breaking point. Strong bonds don't always last when interests change from baseball and pranks to girls/boys, sports, fashion, and simply being _the_ most popular. And when you're like me, a wall between you and the world, its no big surprise this is how you end up.

The last shot, before the static came, was of us leaving. Waving, laughing, saying how that was the best wedding we had ever been too. The camera panned on each of us, with a friend, or a few friends. The last few out were Phoebe, Sid, Arnold, and me; Gerald had been talking to Harold and Stinky. My arm was link with Sid; I smiled at the camera and then blew an over dramatic kiss.

"This is where we part ways!" I smiled slightly as my eleven-year-old counterpart dramatized the situation. "But it's not good bye! How can I say good bye to such an _amazing_ audience?"

I felt my smile increase as Sid and Arnold shook their heads and Sid ruffled my hair. I turned sharply and had begun to chase him. Arnold began laughing as he put his arm out for Phoebe. She laughed and took his arm as we began to walk home.

"She'll never change." Arnold said, smirking to the camera.

"All's well that ends well." They laughed. And the static came on.

"That must have been some party."

"Yeah." I smiled slightly. "It was a different time."

(_It's almost like a different decade, almost like a different life. How could we have been like that? When now, we barely know each other_.)

"We were _friends_. I was _happy_! We were laughing, and joking, and just having _fun_!" I ranted as Dr. Bliss sat there, hergrin plastered on to her face. Her eyes watching my livid performance. I believe this is the most constructive form of emotion I have had in several months. "How could it all change? How could we lose _that_?"

"Helga," I paused in my rant and turned to her. "You all grew up. You didn't expect it to stay like that, forever, did you?"

I looked at her, her cat like eyes, her cat like grin, her rose colored cheeks, and brown hair, all mocking me. "I guess not."

"But?"

"I wish it had." I said, sitting on the sofa, leaning my head back to stare at the ceiling. "If… had Olga not gotten sick, I might have stayed friends with some of them. It wouldn't be like _this_."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm a social outcast. I'm unhappy. I can't have one single, decent relationship."

"You are not a social outcast, you have friendships, you have ties, you have everything you had _then_, only now, it's not as…" She paused, looking for the right word. "Up front."

"Up front?" The woman has degrees from Harvard, Yale, Rutgers, and the best she can do is _up front_.

"You are not as aggressive as you once where. This is the first time, in the many years I have seen you, that you have shown the same passion, the same aggressiveness, and the same _ofamph _that you once were. This is the first time since you came in here, a month before you found out about Olga, that your eyes were livid and sparkling."

"Just because of some tape?" I looked at her.

"No, because of some memory, some emotion, some _feeling_ that you forgot while you were trying to close yourself from the world. You've always been sarcastic, tough, and unhappy. Only now, it seems you don't have the passion, the character, to go behind it. You haven't _lived_ in close to five years, Helga. And once you saw yourself, and how, at one point, you were living, you wanted it back. You're allowed to have it back."

"We were so… carefree." I said, staring into space. My mind lulling over her words. "I mean, we _were_ the kids of P.S. 118."

"You still are, all of you, it's just now you have other things to worry about." I looked at her. Her grim was still plastered on her face, her hands folded over her chest.

"So, how do I begin living, from this point? How do I get back to _that_, to the tape, with those people?" I focused on her face, her eyes. And for the first time, since I started seeing her, her grin slowly diminished.

"I don't know."

(_If I had a time machine, I'd travel back to where the world was at my fingers. When I could be happy and carefree, and be really happy and carefree. I would go back to when I was a child. When we were all children. And I'd laugh and I'd play. And let the grown up things stay far away_.)

I slowly swung on the empty swing at P.S. 118. After finishing up with Dr. Bliss I found myself, on a perfectly good Sunday afternoon, sitting in the empty playground of my old elementary school. I smiled as I leaned my head against the chain of the swing and slowly swung, letting my feet push the sand around. I looked at the playground. The monkey bars, the black top, the picnic tables, the seesaw, the plastic tube thing, and I took everything in.

I allowed myself to slowly get lost in memories of laughter and gossip. Sid, Harold, and Stinky sitting on the monkey bars, planning their next prank. Arnold and Gerald leaning against the plastic tube thing, talking about something stupid. Rhonda, Nadine, Sheena, and Lila, sitting at a picnic table looking over fashion magazines. Eugene and Curly trying to figure out who could swing higher. Brainy next to the swing set, wheezing for air. Phoebe sitting at another picnic table reading over a book, a journal, sometimes doing next week's homework. Eventually we would all just mesh together, once again, and then play baseball, kickball, go down to the junk yard and hang out, go on wild and crazy adventures that meant everything and nothing at the same time. And we were all _happy_.

I felt my chest boil up and my smile become wider. I closed my eyes and began pushing myself higher on the swing. I felt the wind hit my face in a fury, as my hair crashed back and forth against my head. And the first time, for what seemed like forever, I didn't care where I was suppose to go, who I was suppose to be, who I'm suppose to be with, and how long this was going to last. As far as I'm concerned it was going to last long into the night.

I don't know how to go back to _that_ time. But I do know that it still exists. That maybe I'm not so broken.

Maybe I'm capable of being happy.

I guess that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.


End file.
